Sophia Holmes and the Hounds of Baskerville
by Dralice99
Summary: Book 10 Shortly after her mother's death, Sophie is back and working her next case. When Henry Knight claims to have witnessed the mauling of his father on the moors of Dartmoor by a giant Hound, the Holmes' can't refuse a trip down to Devon.
1. Prologue

Recap: Dad bursts through the door first and stops just inside the room. I follow in behind him, looking indignantly down at my ruined blouse as dad slams the bloody harpoon on the floor. John looks around, his eyes widening as he takes in our appearances. Dad is pretty much covered from head to foot in the blood, staining his shirt and trousers and covering his face. I have a small spattering on my shirt, but I think my face is clean.

"Well, that was tedious," dad says, breathing heavily.

"You went on the Tube like that?!" John questions in disbelief and I roll my eyes as I lift my chifon blouse over my head and toss it onto the sofa. Mrs Hudson can wash it later.

"None of the cabs would take us," I say in irritation before heading into the bedroom to get changed.

When I come back out, dad is pacing in the living room having cleaned himself up and changing into a spare set of clothes in the other room. John sits in his seat, flicking through a newspaper.

"Nothing?" I ask, sitting down in dad's seat.

"Military coup in Uganda," John suggests.

"Hmm." I shake my head in disagreement. John continues flicking through when he comes across something which makes him chuckle. "What?"

"Another photo of you with the, er ..." he points to a photograph of us wearing the hats and dad makes a disgusted sound so John moves onto another newspaper. "Oh, um, Cabinet reshuffle."

"Nothing of importance?" dad asks, furiously, slamming the end of the harpoon on the ground and roars in rage. He's been a bit restless recently. John persuaded him to go cold turkey on the cigarettes and he isn't taking it well. "Oh, God!" he moans and looks intensely round at John. "John, I need some.Getme some."

"No," he replies calmly.

"Get me some."

"No," John says more firmly and points at him. "Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what." Irritated, dad leans the harpoon against the dining table. I consider moving it out of harms way but realise that by doing so I will put myself in harms way so just leave it. "Anyway, you've paid everyone off, remember?" John reminds him. "No-one within a two mile radius'll sell you any."

"Stupid idea," dad declares. "Whose idea was that?" I snort.

"Yours?" Dad ignores me and looks towards the door.

"Mrs Hudson!" he shouts and begins hurling paperwork off the table, desperately searching for the packs we hid.

"Look, Sherlock," John tries, "you're doing really well. Don't give up now."

"Tell me where they are," he says frantically, still pulling papers off. "Please. Tell me." John remains silent so dad straightens up and puts on his most appealing puppy-dog eyes. "Please."

"Can't help, sorry."

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers," he tries.

"He's not going to fall for that one again!" I laugh and John chuckles.

"Oh, it was worth a try," dad says, exasperated. He looks round the room and hurls himself onto the floor in front if the fireplace in inspiration. He digs out his Venisian slipper from beneath a pile of papers as Mrs Hudson enters.

"Ooh-ooh!" she announces.

"My secret supply," he says, still rummaging around by the fire. "What have you done with my secret supply?"

"Eh?" she replies in confusion.

"Cigarettes!" dad exclaims. "What have you done with them? Where are they?"

"You know you never let me touch your things!" Mrs Hudson looks around at the mess and tuts. "Ooh, chance would be a fine thing." Dad stands up and faces her.

"I thought you weren'tmy housekeeper."

"I'm not," she confirms and dad makes a frustrated sound, walks over to the harpoon and picks it up again. John mimes the suggestion that she makes dad some tea and she looks round at him. "How about a nice cuppa," she suggests, "and perhaps you could put away your harpoon."

"I need somethingstrongerthan tea," he argues. "Seven percentstronger." He turns on Mrs Hudson and aims the harpoon at her. She flinches. "You've been to see Mr Chatterjee again." I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat.

"Pardon?" She asks in indignation. Dad points to her dress with the tip of the harpoon.

"Sandwich shop. That's a new dress, but there's flour on the sleeve. You wouldn't dress like that for baking."

"Sherlock ..." John warns, but dad continues.

"Thumbnail." He raises the harpoon to point at her nail. "Tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know wherethatleads, don't we?" He sniffs deeply and lowers the harpoon. "Mmm," dad says. "'Kasbah Nights.' Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. It's on the website – you should look it up."

"Please," Mrs Hudson says, exasperated.

"I wouldn't pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr Chatterjee. He's got a wife in Doncasterthat nobody knows about."

"Sherlock!" John tries again, angrily.

"Well, nobody except me."

"And me," I announce, standing up and moving round to comfort her. "But I don't go around upsetting our landlady with it."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I really don't," she cries, storming out the flat and slamming the living room door as she goes. Dad leaps over the back of his chair from behind it and perches on it, wrapping his arms around his knees like a petulant child. John slams his newspaper down.

"What the bloody hell was all that about?"

"You don't understand," dad replies, rocking backward and forwards.

"Go after her and apologise," John orders, sternly. Dad stares at him.

"Apologise?" he repeats.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Oh, John," dad sighs. "I envy you so much." He hesitates and looks momentarily up at me, considering whwther he should rise to the bait.

"You envy me?"

"Your mind," dad explains, "it's so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mine's like an engine, racing out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad." He raises his voice."I need a case!"

"You've just solved one!" John cries, equally as loud. "By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!" Dad makes an exasperated noise and jumps up, repositioning himself into a sitting position.

"That was this morning!" He starts drumming his fingers on the arms if the chair and stomps his feet on the floor. "When's the next one?"

"Nothing on the website?" I question and dad gets up and collects the laptop from the table and hands it to me before stomping over to the window and narrating the message.

"'Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can you help?'"

"Yes, I can read thank you," I say, skipping through it myself.

"Bluebell?" John questions.

"A rabbit, John!" Dad answers in irritation.

"Oh."

"Ah, but there's more!" dad continues, sarcastically. "Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned luminous, 'like a fairy' according to little Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone! Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry ..." He stops and his eyes narrow, his expression becoming more intense. "Ah! What am I saying?" he questions, perking up. "This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him there's an escaped rabbit."

"Are you serious?" I ask, eyebrows raised as I close the laptop down and carry it back over to the table.

"It's this, or Cluedo."

"Ah, no!" John says quickly. "We areneverplaying that again!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why."

"Well, it was the only possible solution," dad protests.

"It's not in the rules."

"Then the rules are wrong!" he replies, furiously. As he finishes, the doorbell rings. John thoughtfully holds up a finger as dad looks towards the sound.

"Single ring," John says.

"Maximum pressure just under the half second," dad continues.

We look at each other before saying simultaneously, "Client."

Prologue

Mrs Hudson leads a young man up the stairs and into the living room and I begin to make deductions. He's in his early thirties but is still haunted by his traumatic childhood, but he has a lot of money which he's living off though I'm not sure it's money he's earned himself. Probably something he was left when his parents died or something he was given off the back of his story. He's travelled a long way so it must be important.

"Sophie, there's a -"

"Client," dad interrupts Mrs Hudson and she glares at him. "Yes, we know."

"Thanks, Mrs H," I say, giving her a smile.

"Can I get you a drink, dear?" she asks, but the client shakes his head.

"No, um," he hesitates slightly and I take in his accent, "Thanks." Upper class, so lots of money then. There's a slight westcountry tinge to it though. That would explain the distance. Mrs Hudson leaves the room and shuts the door, more gently this time. "Mr Holmes," he says, walking further into the room. "Henry Knight. I've come to talk to you about...um...something strange that has been happening down on Dartmoor." Dad sighs but gestures for him to sit in John's chair while John and I take our seats up at the dining table. "I actually have a dvd which will give you some context. It's been happening for decades now. Here," he says, offering dad the dvd case which he takes and we wait for it to load. A minute later, a documentary comes onto the screen showing scenes of the Dartmoor countryside, but dad is already bored. I don't know why he hasn't already thrown him out.

"Dartmoor," the female voiceover announces. "It's always been a place of myth and legend, but is there something else lurking out here – something very real?" The camera cuts to a series of 'Keep Out' signs before it shows the presenter walking down a long, narrow lane - a village visible in the background. "Because Dartmoor's also home to one of the government's most secret of operations ..." I narrow my eyes as they throw up another image of a sign which reads

'AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY

YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A RESTRICTED AREA

BASKERVILLE'

Baskerville? Can't say I've heard of it before. But then again there are hundreds of military bases all over the countryside because they get so easily lost in the Moor.

"The chemical and biological weapons research centre is said to be even more sensitive than Porton Down," the presenter continues. "Since the end of the Second World War, there've been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments: genetic mutations, animals grown for the battlefield. There are many who believe that within this compound, in the heart of this ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is: are all of them still inside?" The footage switches to an indoor scene where Henry is sitting and talking to an offscreen interviewer. It identifies him briefly as a Grimen resident, presumably the name of the village or hamlet he lives in.

"I was just a kid," the on-screen Henry says. "It-it was on the moor." They bring up a child's drawing of a large, snarling dog with red eyes and a caption says it's Henry's depiction of the beast. "It was dark," he continues, "but I know what I saw. Iknowwhat killed my father." Sighing again, dad picks back up the remote and turns the player off.

"What did you see?" dad asks him.

"Oh," Henry replies in surprise and points to the television. "I ... I was just about to say."

"Yes, in a TV interview," dad agrees. "I prefer to do my own editing."

"Yes," Henry nods. "Sorry, yes, of course. 'Scuse me." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a train napkin and wipes his nose on it. The tissue is stained with what looks like coffee but there is also some writing which has been traced again after the spill, but I'm too far away to see what it is.

"In your own time," John says, not unkindly but dad jumps in after him.

"But quite quickly." Henry lowers the napkin and looks over at dad.

"Do you know Dartmoor, Mr Holmes?"

"No."

"It's an amazing place," Henry explains. "It's like nowhere else. It's sort of ... bleak but beautiful."

"Mmm, not interested," dad say, impatiently. "Moving on."

"We used to go for walks," Henry continues, seeming to gain some confidence, "after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening we'd go out onto the moor."

"Yes, good," dad interrupts again. "Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?" I exchange an amused expression with John who looks like he's experiencing second-hand embarrassment from the insensitive question.

"There's a place," he starts, "it's... it's a sort of local landmark called Dewer's Hollow." He checks to see if Dad is going to interrupt him again before explaining. "That's an ancient name for the Devil."

"So?" dad asks.

"Did you see the Devil that night?" John asks and Henry looks instantly haunted by the memories it triggers.

"There's no such thing," I dismiss, but John silences me.

"Yes," Henry replies in a whisper and grimaces as the images form in his mind. "It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes." He starts to break down in tears. "It got him, tore at him, tore him apart. I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found."

"Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous," I repeat before shrugging. "There's been legends of the Dartmoor Beast for centuries - could it be some kind of panther?"

"Or a genetic experiment," dad suggests, looking at me and biting back a smile.

"Are you laughing at me, Mr Holmes?" Henry says, affronted.

"Why, are you joking?"

"My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville," he continues, "about the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."

"And, I assume, did wonders for Devon tourism," dad says sarcastically.

"Yeah ..." John mutters uncomfortably before leaning forward in his seat, "Henry, whateverdidhappen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?"

"I'm not sure you can help me, Mr Holmes," Henry says, leaning forwards in his own seat and glaring at dad, "since you find it all so funny." He stands up and heads towards the door.

"Because of what happened last night," dad tells him.

"Why," John frowns, "what happened last night?"

"How ..." Henry stutters, stopping and turning back around, "how do you know?"

"I didn't know; I noticed." John and I exchange a short glance before dad rattles the deductions off quick-fire. "You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however,extremelyanxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr Knight, and doplease smoke. I'd be delighted." So that's why he's kept him here this long - he's hoping to get a hit through passive smoking. Henry stares at him for a moment in surprise before walking back over to the chair and sitting down, fumbling in his pocket for his cigarettes.

"How on earth did you notice all that?!" Henry questions in amazement.

"It's not important ..." John tries, but dad has already started.

"Punched-out holes where your ticket's been checked ..."

"Not now, Sherlock," John interrupts.

"Ohplease," dad argues. "I've been cooped up in here for ages."

"You're just showing off," I remark, but only because I'm annoyed I missed a few details.

"Ofcourse," dad replies. "Iama show-off. That's what we do." He turns his attention back to Henry and the napkin he's still holding. "The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich."

"How did you know it was disappointing?" Henry half-sobs, clearly over-awed by the explanation.

"Is there any other type of breakfast on a train?" Henry shrugs to agree. "The girl – female handwriting's quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later – after she got off, I imagine – you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you're not that into her after all. Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers ... yourshakingfingers. I know the signs. No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here." Dad looks down at his watch. "It's just after nine fifteen. You're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?" Henry stares at him in amazement then draws in a shaky breath.

"No," Henry confirms and dad smiles smugly. "You're right," he remarks, awe-struck. "You're completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick."

"It's my job," dad returns and leans forward in his seat, glaring intensely at Henry. "Now shut up and smoke." John frowns at dad as Henry rolls his cigarette and lights it.

"Um, Henry," John says, consulting his notes, "your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?" Dad stands up as Henry exhales his first drag.

"I know," he says, breathing out. "That ... my ..." he stops and watches in bewilderment as dad leans into the smoke and breathes it in deeply and noisily through his nose. After sucking up most of the smoke, he sits back down, momentarily contented and John continues, trying to ignore dad.

"That must be a ... quite a trauma. Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this ..." As Henry exhales another lungful, dad dives in again to breath in the smoke. John pauses for a moment as he waits for him to sit back down before continuing, "... to account for it?"

"That's what Doctor Mortimer says," Henry says.

"Who?" John asks.

"His therapist," dad and I say in unison.

"My therapist," Henry says at the same time.

"Obviously," dad explains.

"Louise Mortimer," Henry continues. "She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons."

"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry?" I ask. "You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?"

"It's a strange place, the Hollow," Henry starts and grimaces again as another memory resurfaces. "Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid."

"Yes," dad says, rolling his eyes, "if I wanted poetry I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends. Much funnier." John gives a hard sigh and I chuckle slightly, causing him to glare at me.

"What did yousee?" I repeat.

"Footprints," Henry says. "On the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart." Exasperated, dad leans back in his seat. I must say that isn't really sufficient evidence to drag all the way up to London on.

"Man's or a woman's?" John asks.

"Neither," Henry says, shaking his head. "They were ..."

"Is that it?" dad interrupts. "Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?"

"Yes, but they were ..."

"No, sorry," he interrupts again, "Doctor Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr Knight. Thank you for smoking."

"No," Henry protests, "but what about the footprints?"

"Oh, they're probably paw prints; could be anything, therefore nothing." Dad leans forward and flicks his fingers at Henry, gesturing him towards the door. "Off to Devon with you; have a cream tea on me." He stands up and heads into the kitchen, but Henry turns in his seat to look at him.

"Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" Dad stops dead in the doorway of the kitchen and I narrow my eyes.

"Say that again," dad requests.

"I found the footprints," Henry starts, "they were ..."

"No, no, no," dad says, shaking his head, "your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them." Henry thinks for a second then slowly recites his words back to us.

"Mr Holmes," he says slowly, "they were the footprints of a gigantic ... hound."

Hound is nearly archaic now, the use of it is vastly infrequent so for him to use it...there must be a reason.

"I'll take the case," dad says, startling John.

"Sorry, what?"

Dad adopts the steepled position with his hands as he starts pacing the living room.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It's very promising."

"No-no-no," John says, still confused, "sorry,what? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they're very promising?"

"It'snothingto do with footprints," I tell him softly and in wonder as my mind begins to tick again while dad shakes his head in agreement.

"As ever, John, you weren't listening. Baskerville: ever heard of it?"

"Vaguely," John replies. "It's very hush-hush."

"Sounds like a good place to start," dad decides.

"Ah!" Henry exclaims. "You'll come down, then?"

"No, I can't leave London at the moment," dad tells him, but I can tell he's playing us. "Far too busy. Don't worry – putting my best people onto it." He walks over to John and pats his shoulder. "Always rely on John to send me the relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself."

"What are you talking about, you're busy?" John asks. "You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining ..."

"Bluebell, John!" Dad interrupts. "I've got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit!" He looks at Henry before continuing."NATO's in uproar."

"Oh, sorry, no," Henry says, trying to work dad out, "you're not coming, then?" Dad puts on a fake face of regret and shakes his head.

"Okay," John groans and I can tell he's fallen hook line and sinker for dad's trap as he walks over to the mantlepiece and lifts up the skull, revealing the hidden cigarettes. Dad smiles smugly as John tosses him the packet, but tosses them instantly over his shoulder.

"I don't need those any more," dad says, smiling. "I'm going to Dartmoor." I laugh and John glares at me as dad walks out the living room door. "You go on ahead, Henry," dad calls from the landing. "We'll follow later."

"Er," Henry says, scrambling to his feet, "sorry, so youare coming?" Dad turns and walks back into the room.

"Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!"


	2. Chapter One

Once we arrive in Exeter, we hail a bus and board with the mass of college students finishing for the day. After a good hour searching for transport to Baskerville, the closest network to the Moor from Exeter is this bus which terminates a good five miles away from the military base. It's now I start to realise how limited our resources will be down here.

We have to disperse on the bus and I find myself seated next to one of the college girls we followed on. She shuffles over and pulls her bag towards the window to make room for me to sit, but her eyes remain glued to her phone. The journey is long and tedious - we spend fifteen minutes on the same roundabout before the next fourty-five minutes is spent on one long, narrow, winding road which passes various small hamlets and villages before we get off in Moretonhampstead, a small town no bigger than the villages we passed.

"What now then?" John asks as we walk away from the bus and gather on the pavement, just a few meters away from the girl on the bus.

"I thought we'd check out the area surrounding Baskerville first," dad says as John comes back in. "See how impenetrable the base really is and how close we can get."

"It's a military base," I point out. "They're not just going to let us walk in - or the tourists that stumble across it." I consider for a moment. "Do we actually know where this place is located exactly?"

"Somewhere near Grimpen?" John suggests.

"That would narrow it down to about a fifty mile radius then." I lean back against the wall and sigh.

"You looking to get somewhere?" The girl from the bus speaks up at last and we turn to face her.

"Yeah," John says. "Baskerville. Have you heard of it?"

"Yeah," she nods. "Massive military base just a couple miles from my place. You got a map?" I nod and take out a map of Devon we bought at the train station. I open it up for her and she leans over her finger hovering above the map for a second before putting it down in the middle of an area of green. "Here," she points. "You won't get anywhere need it though. Closest I could ever get was Hound Tor." She moves her finger slightly. "Massive rock formation. Should be easy enough for you guys to get up to the top and look over." A family carrier draws up beside us and the girl looks up. "Do you want a ride?"

"Yes, thank you," Dad says.

"You sure it's not a problem?" John asks and she shakes her head.

"Not at all. We're going that way anyway and there's plenty of space in the back." We look to her Dad for permission and he nods.

"Yeah sure," he agrees. "Where you guys going?"

"Hound Tor," I say, getting in and moving into the middle while dad follows me in and John goes in the other side.

"Yeah, that's fine. I'm Cal, by the way, pleasure to meet you chaps and chapette. We'll have to stop off at ours first though but you are welcome to take our Landy up to the Tor later."

The girl turns around in her seat smiles.

"Sorry, yes, forgot to mention - I'm Elizabeth, but most people just call me Beth." She waves her hand in a mock wave before frowning and biting her lip, obviously considering whether or not to say the thought playing in her mind. "I didn't want to say anything on the bus," she says after a moment, "but you're Sherlock and Sophia Holmes and Doctor Watson, aren't you?" Dad nods and John smiles. Another follower on his blog. "I've visited the website - brilliant stuff on there - and the cases on the blog are really interesting! Is that why you're down here? Has something happened at Baskerville?"

"Don't know yet. That's what we're going to see," I tell her. "You know a Henry Knight?"

"Only in passing," she shrugs but her dad looks back at us in the rear view mirror as he drives.

"I do his car for him," Cal nods. "Nice guy but he's got some strange ideas."

"Is that the Beast of Dartmoor guy you told me about?" Beth asks and her dad nods. "So does he think it's come back?"

"He certainly seems to think so," I reply. "What's your thoughts on it?"

"I've always dismissed it as a myth," she shrugs. "Kind of thing you ask for as a scary story when you're a kid but it never really goes any further than that. I've never really looked into it."

"Do you want to?" I ask and I'm given three shocked stares.

"I'd love to!" Beth exclaims, glancing sideways at her dad who stays quiet. "But you don't normally have people tag along with you."

"We have John," I point out. "And besides, you probably know more about the area than we do. We could always do with the extra help."

"Dad?" she prompts and he takes a moment to consider.

"I don't see why not," Cal says and dad, John and I look expectantly at her for an answer.

"Then yeah!" she exclaims. "Thanks, that'd be great!"

The incident with mum several months ago has made me realise how lonely we really are - me especially. Besides those at school, I don't have the opportunity to interact with anybody my age. Dad has John. I have nobody, but hopefully I can build a friendship here with someone who seems similarly isolated socially but clearly has an interest in what we do. I think this could be beneficial to all of us.


	3. Chapter Two

After stopping off at Beth's for lunch, we climb into her dad's Land Rover and she directs us up to Hound Tor. Dad takes the driving seat owing to the fact that when John drives, he drives like he's in a military caravan crossing hostile territory and in five minutes we've reached the base of the Tor and dad pulls the car into a small carpark opposite.

"It's a bit of a climb to the top," Beth says, jumping out of the back, "but you'll be able to look right over Baskerville once we you get up there." Dad nods and we follow Beth up the gentle hill leading up to the first big boulders.

It's taller than the pictures would have you believe and it looks like it could be a bit of a scramble to get to the top. As John starts to climb, Beth calls him down.

"Come round the back - it's not as high." She's right, there are less rocks around the back and most of the height is made up through the grass slope around it. Dad and I climb up onto a rocky outcrop which extends out towards a large site just a couple miles away while John consults his map.

"How far is Baskerville from Dewer's Hollow?" I ask John. "Could it have come from there?"

"There's Baskerville," John says hesitantly, turning to point to the large site we're facing before turning and pointing behind us. "That's Grimpen Village."

"And the forest beside Baskerville?"

John looks back at his map. "So that must be ..." he pauses as he tries to interpret the map, "yeah, it's Dewer's Hollow."

"What's that?" dad asks, pointing at the land between the Hollow and the Baskerville complex.

"I think it's a Minefield," Beth says, taking out a pair of binoculars from her bag and lifts them to her eyes. "There's some signs, but I'm not sure what they mean."

"A Minefield would make sense," John replies, taking the binoculars offered to him for a closer look. "Technically Baskerville's an army base, so I guess they've always been keen to keep people out."

"Clearly," dad replies.

"Tell you what," Beth says, taking back the binoculars. "Why don't we go down into Grimpen? There's a pub that can set you guys up for a couple of nights and apparently pretty much everyone there knows something or other about the Beast." I exchange a look with dad.

"Sounds good to me," I reply.

"You know how to get there?" John asks, folding away his map.

"Been there a few times, but it's signposted most of the way anyway. We had loads of people coming down a while back after Henry's documentary so the council put up a few signs to show people where it all happened."

Nodding, dad jumps down from the boulder and helps me down.

"So tell about yourself Beth," I say as we walk back down to the car. "What's it like growing up in the countryside?" Beth smiles.

"I thought you guys could deduce people."

"I thought it would be nice to ask."

"Well tell me what you already know and I'll fill in the rest," she suggests and I pause for a moment as I take her in.

"You're part of a low-income family who have been trying to get a move to Moretonhampstead for over a decade now but despite the lack of money you have aspirations for something a lot greater - considering your interest in coming with us, something in the criminal justice system. You don't have many friends because you moved schools now so that's left you to feel quite isolated. You didn't just come with us because you were interested but because you wanted the company. When you're not at college, you love to read and write and have a slightly obsessive interest in TV shows." I take a deep breath as we reach the car and she turns to face me in awe.

"That was unbelievable!" she exclaims and I grin. "Talk me through it." We jump in the back of the car and although Beth's eyes stay fixed on me, I can see John give dad a look as if to say 'she's finally found someone' which I guess is kind of accurate.

"I said you were from a low income family. That bit's obvious - you live in a tiny council bungalow. The fact you've been waiting for a move for so long is evident in the fact we met your two siblings earlier, but although we didn't go into any of the bedrooms, one can assume from the layout of the place there were only two bedrooms. You would have started looking for somewhere to live when your first sister was born which was about ten years ago. The fact you're looking for somewhere in Moretonhampstead is clear from the fact everybody in your family seems to be based out of the town - your youngest sister's uniform showed she attends the school there and you catch the bus there each day. Your aspirations are clear from the fact you could have continued onto the sixth form at your old secondary school, but the fact you don't suggests they don't offer your courses. Your friends, however don't have the same ambitions so you left them behind but I saw when you were sitting next to me on the bus earlier that you were messaging one of them. I also saw a writing and reading app on your homescreen which suggest you visit it regularly and your background was picture of the TARDIS. It wasn't really a difficult leap to suggest your obsession." I consider telling her about our meetings with the Doctor, but I think that might be a step too far for her at the moment.

"That was amazing!" she exclaims, shaking her head. "But what about you? You've recently lost someone haven't you?"

I look at her, momentarily lost for words. "How can you tell?"

"Oh," Beth says, her face reddening. "Sorry I didn't mean to..."

"No!" I say. "Please, tell me."

"It was a bit of a leap, but your shirt is slightly too big - kinda like you lost a lot of weight quite quickly but have been trying to put it back on again. You also seem slightly distant, like you're thinking over a little more than just the case. Both of these things, I've found, are effects of a recent loss. That and the fact I read something about it on John's Blog and made a few assumptions to get there."

"Brilliant!" I exclaim, smiling. "Except for one thing."

"What's that?" she replies with a frown.

"Never self-depricate. There's plenty of people who will do that for you, you don't need to be one of them. Your reasoning is spot on though, well done."

"Thanks," Beth says, her face still red.

She's spared any further embarrasment as we turn the corner and see the sign introducing us to Grimpen Village.

"There should be a carpark a little way into the village," Beth informs us. "I know a couple at the Cross Keys Inn, they should be able to put you up for a few nights." Dad nods in acknowledgement and a few moments later he pulls into one of five carparking spaces outside the Inn.

I jump out the back and walk around to the back to get our things from the boot. My ears tune in, however, on a young man standing just outside the entrance to the pub where he appears to be addressing a group of tourists. As I take my bags out, I look across to him and see a chalkboard propped up beside him advertising moorland walks. One of the most striking things, however is the image of a wolf-like creature with the words 'Beware the Hound!' written above in capitals. Looks like Henry's tale has managed to create a few quid for local businesses.

As we walk towards the pub, dad pulls his coat back on and turns the collar up. John looks at him pointedly and Beth clocks it but looks confused. I smile as John wordlessly criticises dad for popping up his collar.

"I'm cold," dad replies indignantly, trying and failing to look nonchalant. He enters first and takes a look at the interior of the pub while I go up with John and Beth to make the booking.

"Hiya Gary," Beth says. "Have you got a few rooms for these guys? They're going to be around for a few days."

"Yeah, sure thing Beth," Gary replies and pulls out a book from beneath the bar. He scans a finger down through the book. "I'm afraid the best we've got is three singles."

"That's fine," John says. "That's perfectly fine, thanks."

"You sure?" the manager replies, turning around and taking the keys down from their hooks before handing them over. "Anything else I can get for you guys?"

"Yeah, I'll get a beer, thanks. And er, did you girls want anything?"

"No, I'm alright thanks," Beth replies and I shake my head. Gary pours one up and puts it on the side before turning and taking the three sets of keys from behind him.

"Sorry we couldn't do a double room for you boys," Gary apologises.

"That's fine," John assures him before feeling the need to clarify. "We-we're not ... " But Gary gives him a smug, knowing smile and he gives up. Beth and I exchange glances and a smirk as John hands Gary a five pound note for the drink.

"There you go."

"Oh, ta. I'll just get your change."

"Ta." As Gary goes to the till, I watch John's glance fall on a pile of receipts and invoices which have been punched onto a spike on the bar. I'm too far away to read them, but one of them seems to have caught his attention and he rips it off and puts it away in his pocket quickly as Gary comes back with his change.

"There you go. "

"I couldn't help noticing on the map of the moor: a skull and crossbones," John questions and I narrow my eyes. Surely as a solider and after what Beth told him earlier he should already know, but I suspect it's just his foothold into a discussion about Baskerville.

"Oh that, aye," Gary acknowledges.

"Pirates?!"

"Eh, no, no," he replies, shaking his head. "The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it."

"Oh, right," John nods.

"It's not what you think," Gary continues. "It's the Baskerville testing site. It's been going for eighty-odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there any more. "

"Explosives?" I question.

"Oh, not just explosives," he replies seriously. "Break into that place and - if you're lucky - you just get blown up, so they say ... in case you're planning on a nice wee stroll."

"Ta," John says. "I'll remember."

"Aye. No, it buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound!" He chuckles and comes out from behind the bar to clear a few tables. "Did you see that show, that documentary?"

"Quite recently, yeah. "

"Aye. God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell."

"Ever seen it - the hound?" John asks.

"Me? No," he replies and points out the door past dad to the man we passed coming in.

"Fletcher has. He runs the walks - the Monster Walks for the tourists, you know? He's seen it." Dad turns and follows Fletcher as he walks away so I follow him. I watch as he swipes an abandoned, half-drunk pint of beer from a nearby table and walks towards the guide.

"Mind if we join you?" dad asks and Fletcher shrugs, gesturing to the table. Dad puts his pint down and we sit down opposite him. "It's not true, is it?" he questions, going for the 'interested citizen' approach. "You haven't actually seen this ... hound thing." He smiles in a friendly way in an attempt to extend his 'ordinary person' view.

"You from the papers?" Fletcher asks suspiciously.

"No, nothing like that," he reassures him. "Just curious. Have you seen it?"

"Maybe."

"Got any proof?" I ask, eagerly.

"Why would I tell you if I did?" Fletcher retorts. "'Scuse me." He stands up to leave as John and Beth walk over.

"I called Henry ..." John begins but dad interrupts.

"Bet's off, John, sorry." I frown for a second but now he's standing I can see a betting pamphlet in the pocket of Fletcher's trousers.

"What?" John asks quizzically as he sits down and true enough, it sparks Fletcher's returning attention.

"Bet?" he asks but dad ignores him and looks to his watch instead.

"My plan needs darkness," he says and I look up to the sky, playing along.

"Reckon we've got another half an hour of light ..."

"Wait, wait," Fletcher interrupts me. "What bet?"

"Oh, I bet John here fifty quid that you couldn't prove you'd seen the hound," dad explains flippantly and John catches on.

"Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could." Fletcher smiles and points to dad.

"Well, you're gonna lose your money, mate," he grins.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Fletcher repeats. "I've seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind - couldn't make much out."

"I see," dad sighs. "No witnesses, I suppose."

"No, but ..."

"Never are," I chip in.

"Wait ..." Fletcher says, flicking through photos on his phone before turning it around and showing us one. "There." The photo he shows us is of a dark-furred animal of sorts in the distance but with none of the vegetation in the background providing any kind of scale, it could be anything.

Dad snorts. "Is that it? It's not exactly proof, is it? Sorry, John. I win." Dad goes to drink from his stolen beer but Fletcher stops him.

"Wait, wait. That's not all. People don't like going up there, you know - to the Hollow. Gives them a ... bad sort of feeling."

"Ooh!" I say in mock fear. "Is it haunted?!"

"Is that supposed to convince me?" dad continues, putting his glass back down.

"Nah, don't be stupid." I exchange a look with Beth who smirks. "Nothing like that, but I reckon there is something out there - something from Baskerville, escaped."

"A clone," dad snorts again in scepticism, "a super-dog?!"

"Maybe," Fletcher replies defensively. "God knows what they've been spraying on us all these years, or putting in the water. I wouldn't trust 'em as far as I could spit."

Dad nods to the photo on the phone. "Is that the best you've got?"

Fletcher hesitates for a moment, uncertain on whether to continue. "I had a mate once who worked for the MOD," he eventually says reluctantly, lowering his voice. "One weekend we were meant to go fishin' but he never showed up - well, not 'til late. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. 'I've seen things today, Fletch,' he said, 'that I never wanna see again.Terrible things.'" Fletcher takes a second before continuing. "He'd been sent to some secret Army place - Porton Down, maybe; maybe Baskerville, or somewhere else." He leans in closer. "In the labs there - the really secret labs, he said he'd seen ... terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said, and dogs ..." he reaches into his bag and pulls something out and presents it to us, "... dogs the size of horses." I look at the concrete cast in his hand and my eyes widen momentarily. It's supposed to be a cast of a dog's paw print but it's at least six inches long from the tip of the claws to the back of the pad.

"Er, we did say fifty?" John says, immediately pouncing. Fletcher smiles triumphantly as dad pulls out his wallet and hands John the note. "Ta." Sulkily, dad gets up and walks away. John downs his pint before we follow him back to the car.


	4. Chapter Three

After deciding we would head to Baskerville next, dad drives us across the moors to the military base but pulls up just outside.

"What're you doing?" I ask in confusion.

"You girls are going to have to get out," he says and I exchange an indignant look with Beth. "It may be a military base but they're not complete idiots. They'll sense something's off if two girls are walking around."

"Never stopped me before."

"Sophie," dad says warningly, in a tone I haven't heard in years. He doesn't need to say any more. John looks over and frowns at him but I've received the message.

"Okay," I reply, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Meet you outside in half an hour?" Dad nods and we slide out the car. Slamming the door shut, I walk over to the side of the road where Beth stands, slightly stunned.

"What was that all about?" she asks and I shake my head.

"No idea," I reply, starting to follow the car. I watch it pull up to the perimeter and stop as dad presents his I.D.

"Where're you going?" Beth asks, jogging to catch up.

"Well I don't know about you but I'm not standing outside for the next half an hour," I say, continuing to walk. "There's no reason we can't take a look around as well, it's just a matter of how we get in."

"Which is how exactly?"

I don't answer and instead continue to walk. As the guards let dad and John pass, I hear another car draw up beside us.

"You okay girls? You lost?" I turn around to see two scientists, most likely from Baskerville, in the front seats of the car beside us.

"A little," I reply and as the driver winds their window down further, I draw my hand back and hit them in the face. It's enough to knock them out for at most an hour, but we shouldn't be too long.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" the passenger shouts but Beth is already round the other side and does the same.

"Nice one," I reply as she walks away, looking at her fist in surprise.

"Well, that's a first," she replies, panting. "What do we do now?" I reach into my pocket and pull out a small silver case. I open it up and show her the two pills which rest inside.

"Retcon - strictly off-limits stuff and should technically be confined to the labs."

"And how've you got it?"

"I know a few people," I reply casually and place one on the tongue of the driver before heading around thecar to do the same with the second. "They'll lose a few hours, wake up and won't remember a thing. Pretty useful stuff actually. Take the jacket from that one," I say, pointing to the driver. Beth opens the driver's door as I open the passenger's and we take the coats off of both scientists.

A few minutes later, we reach the gates of Baskerville. Surprisingly, we look pretty convincing as lab technicians, despite our age.

"Good afternoon, Private," I say, reaching into my breast pocket and pulling out the I.D. card of the woman's coat. Beth does the same and we hand them over. Fortunately, the scientists in the car were quite young themselves and although their hair is slightly different to ours, they should be close enough to get us in.

"No car today, Laura?"

"Broke down!"I reply, rolling my eyes and gesturing to the car still parked down the road. "Nightmare, only had it in last week for a service, you would have thought they'd have picked something up, wouldn't you?!"

"You called the breakdown?"

"Yeah, they're coming out later. Fat lot of good that is though!"

"Quite. Alright, you're good to go."

"Cheers. See you later!"

The gate slides open and we walk on through.

"How did you know that would work?"

"Which part?"

Beth looks over to me and grins. "All of it."

"You know yourself they don't let people within a mile of the Baskerville perimeter so if you see two girls walking around outside you're going to assume they're lost. It was only a matter of time before someone came along, but fortunately for us military bases also work on staggered shifts meaning that new staff come in every half an hour. These new staff would need I.D. and would need to have it somewhere handy to give to the guards. Most logical place is the breast pocket. As for the guards, that was just luck."

"So we could have got shot."

"Yep!"

"Okay."

I look across at her and smile. "You did brilliantly," I say to reassure her and she grins back.

"So what are we doing now?"

"We need to have a look around - see whether Baskerville has developed enough to create some kind of super serum."

I use my I.D. to open a side entrance and we slip past. Each time either dad or I use our cards it's going to limit the amount of time we have in here so we'll have to be quick.

"Take one of these," I say, handing Beth a clipboard from a trolley. "The labs will be on the lower floors, beneath ground. It might be best if we avoid the lifts as well." Beth nods in understanding and I suddenly realise how alien this must be for her. She's a student - the most adventure she had is probably being dropped one stop too far on her bus route. But one would have thought she had been doing it for as long as me. She's a natural.

Eventually we reach one of the lower floors. There are no signs, I suspect so that no one has knowledge of the full extent of Baskerville, so we scan our cards and walk inside.

I realise immediately that we have walked into the wrong lab. It looks as a lab would look if Dad was given free reign: hundreds of glass jars sit on the side with various body parts from fingers right up to a full arm floating inside them. I check to my side and see Beth retching slightly but she nods to say she can continue.

"What are they?" she asks quietly as we walk around the lab and acting as though we are recording the developments of the limbs.

"I would guess it's some kind of organic growth tests," I say, looking around. "I knew they were close, I didn't know how close."

"Prosthetics?"

I nod in reply. "Mainly. But one could also suggest something more sinister if you consider how many body parts they have."

"Clone wars."

"Exactly." Beth shivers and pales. We need to get out. "It's okay, we're leaving now." She nods and follows me back towards the door, stealing glances behind her at the organic material. I swipe my card and fortunately it still works. I estimate it won't be long now - we won't be able to find what we came in for and make it out again, so we've just got to hope that Dad and John have. I press the button for the ground floor and Beth begins to breathe more regularly, some colour returning to her cheeks. "You okay?"

"Peachy," she replies, rubbing her head. "Well I think we can agree that they are certainly able to make big scary mutant dogs."

"Indeed," I agree, but stop as the lift halts and opens three floors early. A middle-aged man in a lab coat steps in and eyes us.

"Afternoon ladies," he says and I look up and smile politely back.

"Afternoon," we reply and he presses the 'G' button again. The lift stops again however on the next floor.

"Hello again," the man says as the doors open to reveal Dad, John and a corporal. Dad narrows his eyes at me and they walk into the lift. As we reach the ground floor, the doors open again to reveal a bearded man in military uniform waiting for us.

"Er, um, Major ..." the corporal tries to say but the major interrupts.

"This is bloody outrageous," he says."Why wasn't I told?"

"Major Barrymore, is it?" John asks, stepping forward out of the lift towards him. "Yes, well, good. Very good." He offers him his hand to shake but Barrymore refuses it. "We're very impressed, aren't we, Mr Holmes?"

Dad is slightly distracted by his phone alert which, I would assume is Mycroft. He's getting slow. "Deeply; hugely." He walks past Barrymore as he reads the text and Beth and I file out behind him, trying not to make it obvious we're together but the Major follows us towards the door.

"The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense ..."

"I'm so sorry, Major," dad apologises, continuing to walk. The corporal who had accompanied Dad and John ducks into a side room as the telephone rings.

"Inspections?!"

"New policy," dad explains."Can't remain unmonitored forever. Goodness knows what you'd get up to." He lowers his voice as he talks to John but it's too low for me to hear.

"Sir!" the corporal shouts as he comes back out of the room and slaps an alarm button on the wall. Alarms begin to blare, red lights flash and the doors start to lock. Everyone turns to face him.

"ID unauthorised, sir."

"What?" Barrymore replies.

"I've just had the call."

"Is that right?" Barrymore turns to John and Dad. "Who are you?" Fortunately, we appear to be the least of the Major's concerns right now, but we need to stay close to Dad and John in case something happens so I pull Beth to the side of the corridor.

"Look, there's obviously been some kind of mistake," John says calmly but as I turn to look back to the lift I see the man from the liftwalking towards us. He looks to me first and then to Dad and John, looking thoughtful. Barrymore holds out his hand for Dad's I.D. card which he gives to him. Now, I'm going to assume that although Dad is using Mycroft's card, the photo identification really doesn't look like Dad. It's going to be hard getting out of this one.

"Clearly not Mycroft Holmes," Barrymore replies, looking down at the photo and then back up.

John gets out his notebook and starts to write. "Computer error, Major," John sighs. "It'll all have to go in the report."

"What the hell's going on?!" the Major shouts.

"It's all right, Major," the man from the liftsays at last, reaching them. I narrow my eyes. If he's recognised us, that isn't exactly going to solve the issue. "I know exactly who these gentlemen are."

"You do?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I'm getting a little slow on faces but Mr Holmes here isn't someone I expected to show up in this place."

"Ah, well ..." Dad says, obviously believing also that we've been caught out.

"Good to see you again, Mycroft," the man says, holding out his hand for Dad to shake. John tries to mask his surprise, as does Beth but I let out a small sigh of relief. Smiling falsely, Dad shakes his hand.

"I had the honour of meeting Mr Holmes at the W.H.O. conference in ..." he pauses as he pretends to think, "... Brussels, was it?"

"Vienna," dad corrects.

"Vienna," the man repeats. "that's it." He looks at Barrymore. "This is Mr Mycroft Holmes, Major. There's obviously been a mistake."

Barrymore turns and nods to the corporal who goes back to the alarm and turns it off. The lights stop flashing and the alarm falls silent and I hear the click of the door as it unlocks itself again. "On your head be it, Doctor Frankland."

Frankland laughs as the corporal approaches them."I'll show them out, Corporal."

"Very well, sir."

"What are you two doing?" Barrymore barks at us, suddenly noticing us. "Get back to work!"

"Yes Sir!" I nudge Beth and we follow Dad, John and Doctor Frankland towards the door, feeling the glare of the Major from behind.

"Thank you," I hear Dad say as we reach to door.

"This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?" Frankland asks. They don't answer him, but he takes their silence as confirmation. "I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didn't realise he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes!" Dad grimaces noticeably. "Oh, don't worry," Frankland reassures him. "I know who you really are. I'm never off your website. Thought you'd be wearing the hat, though."

"That wasn't my hat," dad mutters.

"I hardly recognise him without the hat!" Frankland says to John who tries unsuccessfully to bite back a smile.

"It wasn't my hat," dad repeats, tetchilly. Frankland spins around and gestures me over.

"And you must be Sophia Holmes - the young prodigy! Very nice to meet you, dear. Your contributions on the website are exceptional."

"Thank you," I reply, beaming.

"I love the blog too, Doctor Watson," Frankland says, spinning back round to John.

"Oh, cheers!" John replies, also smiling.

"The, er, the Pink thing ..."

"Mmm-hmm," John replies, his smile faltering.

"... and that one about the aluminium crutch!"

"Yes."

Dad stops and turns back to Frankland. "You know Henry Knight?"

"Well, I knew his dad better," Frankland admits. "He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend." He looks back to the door and sees Major Barrymore standing in the entrance, watching us with his arms crossed. Well that's my cover blown. "Listen, I can't really talk now," he says, turning back to us and taking a card from his coat pocket and handing it over. "Here's my, er, cell number. If I could help with Henry, give me a call." I frown at the use of 'cell' but dismiss it. Probably just a slip of the tongue.

"I never did ask, Doctor Frankland," dad says."What exactly is it that you do here?"

"Oh, Mr Holmes, I would love to tell you – but then, of course, I'd have to kill you!" he laughs cheerfully but dad doesn't crack a smile.

"That would be tremendously ambitious of you." Frankland's smile fades and he shrugs in embarrassment. "Tell me about Doctor Stapleton."

"Never speak ill of a colleague."

"Yet you'd speak well of one, which you're clearly omitting to do," dad retorts.

"I do seem to be, don't I?" Frankland grins and shrugs again.

"I'll be in touch," dad says, raising the card.

"Any time."

We walk away and head back towards the Land Rover.

"So?" John asks.

"So?" dad repeats.

"What was all that about the rabbit?"

"You went in there for Bluebell?!" I ask in disbelief. "I am never leaving you alone again."

Dad smiles briefly and pulls his coat tighter around him, flipping the collar up just as we reach the car. John rolls his eyes and turns to him.

"Oh, please, can we not do this, this time?"

"Do what?"

"You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool." Beth and I snigger as we slide into the car and dad seems to be so disconcerted for a moment that he can't find the words.

"... I don't do that."

"Yeah you do."

After dropping the lab coats back to the still-unconscious scientists, dad drives us across the moors to visit Henry Knight.

"So, the email from Kirsty," John says, "the, er, missing luminous rabbit."

"Kirsty Stapleton," dad confirms, "whose mother specialises in genetic manipulation."

"She made her daughter's rabbit glow in the dark?" I ask.

"Probably a fluorescent gene removed and spliced into the specimen," dad explains. "Simple enough these days." Beth shivers beside me as she thinks back to the lab we walked in on.

"So ..." John says, looking across to dad and waiting for him to finish.

"So we know that Doctor Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals," dad continues. "The question is: has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?"

"To be fair, that is quite a wide field," I say and dad looks back at me through the rear-view mirror in startled surprise as he realises that's true.


	5. Chapter Four

After dropping Beth back home, we head over to Henry's place. It's almost dark when we get there but I can still make out his house. It's a four-storey stone building which must have been significant at some point and an old-fashioned glass conservatory extends off the front and another glass extension has been built on the side connecting the main house to another two-storey one. And just one man lives here. No wonder he's cracking up.

The main entrance runs through the conservatory but as we walk through it it's clear no work has been done to it in years. Dad rings the bell on the door the other side and Henry opens it almost immediately.

"Hi," Henry says. He looks a little more at home here yet he still looks pale.

"Hi," John returns and Henry gestures us in.

"Come in, come in." Wiping our feet on the doormat, we walk in and I follow dad down the hallway aware that John is lagging behind somewhat as he stares at his surroundings.

"This is, uh ..." John says, trying to piece together his sentence. "Are you, um ..." he searches for the right word for a moment before finding it, "... rich?"

"Yeah," Henry replies flatly.

"Right," John nods before Henry leads off again and dad shots John a dark look before following him. No doubt Henry got this money off the back of the story of the Hound. "So how're you doing Henry?" he asks as we make it into the kitchen.

"I think," Henry says, taking position at the end of his kitchen island while I sit around it and dad and John make themself drinks, "I am remembering more."

"How so?" John questions, looking over at him with a concerned frown as he pours the milk into his mug.

"I-I keep seeing words," he says, staring down at the work top. "They don't make much sense but..."

"What are you seeing Henry?" dad asks as he spoons two lumps of sugar into his coffee.

"It's-it's a couple of words," he says. "It's what I keep seeing. 'Liberty' ..."

John reaches into his pocket for his notebook as he comes back to the island. "Liberty," he repeats.

"'Liberty'," Henry says again, "and ... 'in'. It's just that." He picks up the bottle of milk John used. "Are you finished?"

"Mmm," John says in confirmation and Henry turns around to put the milk away. John turns to us. "Mean anything to you?"

"'Liberty in death' - isn't that the expression?" dad says softly. "The only true freedom." John nods in agreement as Henry turns back around and dad takes a sip from his mug.

"What now, then?" Henry asks.

"Sherlock's got a plan," I say, still with no idea to what it actually involves.

"Yes," dad confirms.

"Right," Henry nods.

"We take you back out onto the moor ..."

"Okay ..." he says nervously.

"... and see if anything attacks you," dad finishes.

"What?!" John exclaims and I hold back a laugh. Way to make the man even more disturbed.

"That should bring things to a head," dad says calmly.

"At night?" Henry says, slightly panicking. "You want me to go out there at night?"

"Mmm," dad says in confirmation.

"That's your plan?" John asks before continuing sarcastically, "Brilliant!"

"Got any better ideas?" dad shoots across.

"That's not a plan," John criticises.

"Listen," dad says, "if there is a monster out there, John, there's only one thing to do: find out where it lives." He looks round to Henry and smiles widely at him before taking another drink from his mug. John and I exchange looks. This really isn't going to end well.

As night begins to fall, Henry us across the rocks towards Dewer's Hollow. The ground is uneven and damp so we use torches to guide us towards the trees to the sound of screaming foxes, but other than that the moors are peaceful and quiet.

By the time we reach the woods it is almost pitch black and the trees overhead make it darker. I notice John stop following behind me but I don't wait for him and continue following him and Henry into the trees. Henry shines his torch in front and the light falls on a barbed wire fence and a sign warning of a minefield to our side. We continue on, following the line of the fence until dad breaks the silence.

"Met a friend of yours," he says to Henry who seems confused.

"What?"

"Doctor Frankland."

"Oh, right," Henry replies. "Bob, yeah."

"Seems pretty concerned about you," I say.

"He's a worrier, bless him. He's been very kind to me since I came back."

"He knew your father," dad states

"Yeah."

"But he works at Baskerville," he continues. "Didn't your dad have a problem with that?"

"Well, mates are mates, aren't they? I mean, look at you and John."

"What about us?" I grimace slightly. Surely not another person believes they have something going on between them?

"Well, I mean, he's a pretty straightforward bloke, and you ..." He glances back and reads dad's expression and decides not to finish. "They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad." He stops and turns to his left. Dad and I stop behind him and look to Henry who nods in the direction he's standing. "Dewer's Hollow," he says unhappily and we turn to look at the steep drop in the land which leads down into a dark, misty valley.

Dad starts climbing down first and I follow behind, being careful to keep my balance on the steep and slippery ground while Henry follows more slowly. We reach the bottom and dad and I shine our torches around. There are loads of giant paw prints here, just like the ones Fletcher showed us in the village. But it can't be true, can it?

A long, anguished howl rings out and I snap my head upwards. Still halfway down the slope, Henry pauses and dad shines his torch in the direction of the sound. My eyes widen at the shape lit up in the torch-light. A large, black dog stands at the top of the slope. It looks like a black Pointer, but it is much more muscular and built up to the size Fletcher's mate had said. It growls savagely and I shine my torch upwards to try and scare it and luckily it retreats along the rim of the Hollow. Dad recoils beside me, his face confused and bewildered. It must be a mirror of my own, I cannot comprehend what I just saw. Surely there can't really be a Hound? I'd just gone along for the ride, hoping for a bit of an adventure - not a real Beast.

"Oh my God," Henry says frantically, hurrying down into the Hollow to join us. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Did you see it?"

Dad lowers his head, clearly still unable to get his mind to accept the evidence he has just seen. He stares around, shaking his head then shoves Henry out of the way and hurries back up the hillside. Henry looks round to me and I shake my head, trembling slightly.

"I don't know what I saw," I say before following dad up the hill. Henry trails along behind.

"Did you hear that?" John says, jogging up to us as we make our way back. Dad storms past him and John turns and goes back the way he came.

"We saw it," Henry says, "We saw it."

"No," dad denies. "I didn't see anything." I frown and look across to him. Surely he's not going to deny he saw something?

"What?" Henry says, chasing after him. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn't. See. Anything," he repeats slowly and hurries onwards leaving us lagging behind. John gives me a look and I shake my head in response.

Dad has left us without the Land Rover but fortunately Henry drove his own over so he takes us back to his place.

"Look, he must have seen it," Henry says as we hurry inside. "I saw it - he must have. He must have. I can't ... Why? Why?" He stops in the doorway of the sitting room and turns back to us. "Why would he say that?" he asks in anguish. "It-it-it-it it was there. It was." John takes off his gloves and ushers him across to the sofa.

"Henry, Henry," John says calmly. "I need you to sit down, try and relax, please." Henry sits down but looks far from relaxed.

"I'm okay, I'm okay."

"Listen, I'm gonna give you something to help you sleep, all right?" John says, looking around the room and heading towards a bottle of water on a nearby bureau. I sit down beside Henry.

"This is good news, Sophie," Henry says, smiling and unwrapping his scarf. "It's-it's-it's good. I'm not crazy. There is a hound, there ... there is. We saw it and Sherlock - he saw it too. No matter what he said, he saw it."

"It might take him a while to admit that," I say. John digs through his pocket and finds a small glass bottle with half a dozen pills and pulls it out before walking back over to us. Why he has a bottle of sleeping pills in his pocket, I have no idea.

"Here you go," he says, handing him the pills and the bottle of water. "Take two before you go to bed. And try to relax!"

"Right," Henry replies, nodding and taking them. "Thank you John - thanks both of you. Hopefully now people might start to take it more seriously." I wouldn't count on that.


	6. Chapter Five

Luckily we don't have far to walk to get back to the inn. When we arrive dad is still up and is sat at the back in an armchair by open fire. He looks unlike I have ever seen him - his hands are steepled and slightly hides his face but he looks as though he's been crying. The inn is fairly busy and other people sit nearby having their dinner. John and I sit in armchairs opposite him.

"Well, he is in a pretty bad way," John says. "He's manic, totally convinced there's some mutant super-dog roaming the moors." Dad looks nervously to me for a second before returning to gaze into the fire. "And there isn't, though, is there? 'Cause if people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we'd know." Dad clasps his fingers together, closes his eyes and breathing heavily. I've seen this before, however. He's trying to counter a panic attack and to be honest after all I've seen today I'm not far off one either. "They'd be for sale," John continues, apparently oblivious. "I mean, that's how it works." He appears to remember something and reaches for his notebook. "Er, listen: er, on the moor I saw someone signalling. Er, Morse – I guess it's Morse." He reads through his notes. Doesn't seem to make much sense."

"Let me see?" John passes me the notebook but still reads from it.

"Er, U, M, Q, R, A. Does that mean ... anything ..."

He finally looks up and realises how distressed dad is then pauses for moment. Realising it's probably not the best idea to press him with the code he changes tact.

"So, okay, what have we got?" John asks and realising there's nothing I can read into the code, I hand the book back. "We know there's footprints, 'cause Henry found them; so did the tour guide bloke. We all heard something." Dad blows a shaky breath and John frowns across to him momentarily. I don't think he can comprehend dad's current weakness. "Maybe we should just look for whoever's got a big dog."

"Henry's right," dad says at last.

"What?" John says in response and my eyes widen. Is he finally starting to accept what he saw?

"I saw it too," dad replies, his voice shaking.

"What?" John says in shock.

"I saw it too, John," he repeats. "We both did." John looks across to me before looking back at dad.

"Just ... just a minute," he says, sitting forward. "You saw what?" Dad finally meets our gaze but his face is twisted with self-loathing as he forces himself to admit the truth.

"A hound, out there in the Hollow," he says through gritted teeth. "A gigantic hound."

John almost laughs as dad looks away, trying to blink back tears. He sits back in his chair, unable to comprehend dad's reaction.

"Um, look, Sherlock, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people, can't just ..."

"But I saw it too, John," I say, wiping away my own tears. "A large hound right at the top of the Hollow. It looked right at us."

"Let's just stick to what we know, yes?" John says, shaking his head. "Stick to the facts."

"Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be true," dad says softly.

"What does that mean?" John asks.

"It means that once you have gotten rid of all the things it can't be, the remaining thing must be true regardless of how unlikely that thing is."

"But surely..."

He's interrupted by dad's snigger. He holds a glass in a trembling hand and watches it shake.

"Look at me. I'm afraid, John. Afraid." He takes a drink then holds the glass up again, still shaking.

"Sherlock?" John says, starting to sound concerned.

"Always been able to keep myself distant ..." dad continues, "...divorce myself from ... feelings. But look, you see ..." he holds up the glass and glares at his shaking hand, "... body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions." He slams the glass down onto the table. "The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment."

"Yeah, all right, Spock, just ..." he looks behind him as he realises he's starting to raise his voice before continuing more softly, "... take it easy."

I wonder why I haven't been affected as much as dad. Withdrawal from nicotine is probably a contributory factor but it's not the only reason.

"You've been pretty wired lately," John continues calmly, "you know you have. I think you've just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up."

"Worked ... up?" dad repeats, frowning.

"It was dark and scary ..."

Dad laughs sarcastically. "Me?! There's nothing wrong with me." This seems to bring the panic attack on a stage and he looks away, almost beginning to hyperventalite. He puts his fingertips to his temples as he groans in anguish.

"Sherlock ..." I say softly, trying to soothe him but dad doesn't hear me. "Sher..."

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" dad shouts furiously. The other vistors are staring at us. "You want me to prove it, yes?" he asks, pulling in a deep breath as he tries to get himself under control. "We're looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, that's your brilliant theory. Cherchez le chien. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?" The diners have returned to their meal after dad's outburst and he points towards a man over his shoulder who sits facing a woman. "How about them?" he says savagely as he goes into deduction mode. "The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer's yes."

"Yes?" John repeats, frowning.

"She's got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we're looking for."

"Oh, Sherlock," John replies quietly, for God's sake ...". Dad looks briefly across to the man.

"Look at the jumper he's wearing. Hardly worn." I look over and see the knitted jumper with reindeer and holly leaves he's referring to. "Clearly he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money." He takes another quick glance at the man. "He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he's trying to economise on his own food."

"Well, maybe he's just not hungry," John suggests.

"No, small plate," dad replies in quick fire. "Starter. He's practically licked it clean. She's nearly finished her pavlova. If she'd treated him, he'd have had as much as he wanted. He's hungry all right, and not well-off – you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes. 'How d'you know she's his mother?'," he says, anticipating the question John was about to ask. "Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an elder sister, but mother's more likely. Now, he was a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive – fish hooks. They're all quite old now, which suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he's turned to his widowed mother for help. 'Widowed?' Yes, obviously. She's got a man's wedding ring on a chain round her neck – clearly her late husband's and too big for her finger. She's well-dressed but her jewellery's cheap. She could afford better, but she's kept it – it's sentimental. Now, the dog ... tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it's a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it is – a West Highland terrier called Whisky. 'How the hell do you know that, Sherlock?'. 'Cause she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that's not cheating, that's listening. I use my senses, John, unlike some people, so you see, I am fine, in fact I've never been better, so just Leave. Me. Alone."

I raise my eyebrows as he concludes. I'm still slightly stunned at dad's behaviour and John stares back at him in shock.

"Yeah," he says before clearing his throat. "Okay. Okay." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat while dad turns back to the fire. "And why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend."

"I don't have friends," dad says savagely and my eyes widen.

"What about the Doctor, Sam, Dean?" John retorts. "Do they mean nothing to you?"

"They're colleagues, John," dad spits. "I don't have friends."

"Naah," John says softly. "Wonder why?" He gets up.

"John -"

"Sorry Sophie," he says, turning around for a second. "I can't be here right now." He walks away and I glare at dad.

"I think you owe someone an apology." Dad rolls his eyes. "I saw something today which would explain how Baskerville would be capable of that." He doesn't look over but I can tell he's listening. "The lab Beth and I went to earlier - the containers were full of organic flesh. They're growing human limbs over there. They are literally months away from growing full-scale clones." This gets his attention.

"Any animals?"

"I didn't see any," I admit. "But animal trials are the first steps. It's possible they generated the hound we saw today." Dad nodded, then his eyes looked above my head. I turn around to look and see a dark haired woman, I would guess in her fourties. "Therapist?" I ask, looking back around. Dad nods again. "There can't be too many therapists in this area, especially women." Dad pulls out his phone and starts typing. "John?" Dad smiles. I'm sure she's just his type.


	7. Chapter Six

After all I've seen, I decide the best way to get a fresh approach is to turn in early so I leave for bed before John gets back and wake to a knock on the door.

"Hey Sophie," the voice behind the door calls. "You up?" It can only be ten past seven - what's Beth doing here so early? Aware that my newly adopted long hair looks a mess, I unlock the door and greet Beth with a half-awake smile.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. The paleness of yesterday seems to have disappeared completely from her face.

"What do you think?!" she replies. "News travels fast - people heard howling near Dewer's Hollow last night. Did I miss it?"

"If you're referring to the Hound then yes," I reply rubbing my head. I think I've finally caught up with what I saw. "Couldn't see much, but Henry's right on the Hound."

"Blimey," Beth says, shaking her head in disbelief. "Anyway, your dad's downstairs - I think he wanted another look on the moor this morning."

"I'll be down in a sec," I nod and Beth closes the door. I hear her feet on stairs as she goes back down into the main pub.

Ten minutes later, we're back on top Hound Tor again, our eyes flicking between Baskerville and Dewer's Hollow.

"What I don't understand is why all the sightings of the Hound happen around the Hollow," Beth says, frowning as she looks towards the woods. "Why is it confined to that one area? It's not like there are land mines all around the Hollow - it could come and go just as easy as us. If it got from Baskerville to here then why can't it get back out?"

"Think about the summer when there's that one really loud wasp stuck inside your living room," I say, looking momentarily back at her. "You open the window for it to come out but it goes everywhere except through the window. It's trapped."

But it would seem Beth's words have allowed something to click in dad's mind though as he jumps down from his position on the rocks and onto the grass below.

He drives us over to Henry's house and parks outside. Dad breezes up to the door and knocks. Henry is there in an instant but as soon as he opens it dad surges through, being loudly cheerful.

"Morning!" he calls, beginning to stride towards the kitchen before spinning around and clasping Henry by the shoulders. "Oh, how are you feeling?" He looks terrible - he clearly didn't take the pills John prescibed him. Dad ducks down to get a better look of his face.

"I'm ..." Henry says, sounding exhausted. "I didn't sleep very well."

"That's a shame," dad says with very little sympathy. "Shall I make you some coffee?" He looks up and points to the ceiling above the door. "Oh look, you've got damp!" I exchange a look with Beth who looks as though dad has just lost his mind. Dad grins falsely until Henry turns to look at the ceiling before dropping the smile and walking towards the kitchen. We follow him in and I take my place back up to the kitchen island as dad hurries over to the cupboards and starts opening and closing each one rapidly. Finally he finds the metal jar that he's looking for and takes it out, rummaging inside it while elbowing the cupboard door closed. Tucking something which looks like a sachet of sugar from the jar inside his coat, he goes over to the sink and picks up a four mugs before taking them over to the central island just as Henry wanders tiredly in.

"Listen ... last night." Dad gives him that horrifying attempt at a friendly smile while he takes the lid off the coffee tin. "Why did you say you hadn't seen anything?" Henry asks. "I mean, I only saw the hound for a minute, but..." Dad locks eyes with Henry and slams the coffee tin down onto the surface and steps closely to him, his eyes intense.

"Hound," dad says, ignoring Henry's question.

"What?" Henry replies, lost.

"Why do you call it a hound?" dad expands, gesturing to Beth as well for an answer."Why a hound?"

"Why – what do you mean?"

"It's odd, isn't it?" dad asks. I picked it up when Henry first said it -something about it sounded off."Strange choice of words – archaic. It's why I took the case. 'Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound.' Why say 'hound'?"

"I don't know!" Henry protests,sighingwearily. Beth looks equally confused."I ..."

"Actually, I'd better skip the coffee," dad says before flouncing out of the kitchen. Beth and I exchange glances before following him out.

When we get back to the inn, John has left so we look around for him. Eventually, Beth spots him sitting on the steps of a war memorial in the village cemetery looking through his notebook so we pass through the kissing gate and walk over to him. As we draw nearer, John notices us and his expression becomes uncomfortable as he tucks his notebook into his pocket. Dad grimaces slightly and steps forward, looking equally awkward. Beth looks at me for some explanation but I shake my head. She'll work it out.

"Did you, er, get anywhere with that Morse code?" dad asks after a moment.

"No," John says flatly, stepping down from the memorial and walking away.

"U, M, Q, R, A, wasn't it?" dad asks, following John as he continues to walk away. "UMQRA," he says, voicing the initials as a word.

"Nothing," John says again but dad persists.

"U.M.Q..."

"Look, forget it," John says. "It's ... I thought I was on to something. I wasn't."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"How about Louise Mortimer?" I ask. "Did you get anywhere with her?"

"No," John replies.

"Too bad," dad says. "Did you get any information?" John smiles briefly over his shoulder but keeps walking.

"You being funny now?"

"Thought it might break the ice a bit," dad admits.

"Funny doesn't suit you," John says coldly. "I'd stick to ice."

I feel a stab of second-hand pain on dad's behalf.

"John ..." Dad tries.

"It's fine," he replies, still walking but we've stopped.

"No, wait," dad continues. "What happened last night ... Something happened to me; something I've not really experienced before ..."

"Yes, you said," John says. "Fear. Sherlock Holmes got scared. You said." Dad runs to catch up with him and takes hold of his arm, pulling him around to face us.

"No-no-no, it was more than that, John. It was doubt. I felt doubt. I'vealwaysbeen able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night."

"You can't actually believe that you saw some kind of monster," John says in disbelief.

"No," dad agrees. "Ican'tbelieve that." He grins bitterly for a moment."But we did see it, so the question is: how?How?"

"Yes. Yeah, right, good. So you've got something to go on, then?" John says, still annoyed. "Good luck with that." He turns and starts to walk away again.

"Listen," dad says, turning and calling after him, "what I said before, John. I meant it." John stops and turns to face him, ready to hear him out. "I don't have friends." He bites his lip briefly. "I've just gotone."

John looks away as he takes in that statement then nods briefly and glances back at dad. "Right." He turns and walks away again. Dad lowers his head then instantly raises it in realisation. I'm lost.

"John? John!" He starts to chase after him. "You are amazing! You are fantastic!"

"Yes, all right!" John says, but I can hear his smile. "You don't have to overdo it."

Dad catches up to him and overtakes him before walking backwards in front of him. Beth and I start following them again as they near the gate. "You've never been the most luminous of people," dad says and I have stop myself from laughing, "but as a conductor of light you are unbeatable."

"Cheers." It takes John a moment. "... What?" Dad turns around and walks beside him as he takes out his own notebook and writes in it.

"Some people who aren't geniuses have an amazing ability to stimulate it in others," dad explains.

"Hang on," I lecture, catching up, "you were saying 'sorry' a minute ago. Don't spoil it."

"Go on," John says, "what have I done that's so bloody stimulating?" The gate leads through into the pub carpark and we stop just outside it's entrance as dad shows us what he's written in his notebook.

"Beth brought it to my attention earlier that everyone calls it a 'Hound'," he says, as I read the word 'HOUND' that he's written. "Not 'Beast' or 'Dog' but 'Hound'."

"Yeah?" John says but I think I might have caught up. Beth looks overjoyed at her part as dad pulls the notebook away again and starts writing again.

"But what if it's not a word? What if it is individual letters?" He shows us the page again, but this time he's broken the word into initials so it now reads 'H.O.U.N.D.'. That looks familiar, but I can't think where I've seen it.

(He shows him the page of the notebook again, which now reads:

"You think it's an acronym?" Beth asks as dad puts his notebook away.

"Absolutelyno idea but ..." he trails off as he turns towards the pub door and sees Lestrade.

"What the hell areyoudoing here?" dad demands, storming into the pub.

"Well, nice to see you too!" Lestrade says sarcastically. "I'm on holiday, would you believe?"

"No, I wouldn't," I pipe up, taking in his appearance. He's dressed in entirely the wrong attire for this climate and is heavily tanned.

"Hullo, John," Lestrade greets as John follows behind us.

"Greg!"

"I heard you were in the area," Lestrade explains. "What are you up to? You after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?"

"I'm waiting for an explanation, Inspector," dad says. "Why are you here?"

"I've told you," Lestrade replies indignantly. "I'm on holiday."

"You're brown as a nut," I retort, smiling. "You're clearly just backfrom your 'holidays.'"

"Yeah," Lestrade answers, trying and failing to look nonchalant, "well I fancied another one."

"Oh, this is Mycroft, isn't it?" Dad asks.

"No, look ..."

"Ofcourseit is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to ... to spy on me incognito. Is that why you're calling yourself Greg?"

"That's hisname," John says, slightly stunned.

"Is it?" Dad asks, frowning and I realise I've never known his name either.

"Yes," Lestrade replies indignantly, "if you'd ever bothered to find out." He finally notices Beth. "You seem to have acquired another companion, Sherlock." He looks to me. "A friend of yours?" I exchange a glance with Beth who looks just as blankly back at me before shrugging.

"I guess so. She's our local source of information."

Lestrade leans forward and offers his hand. "Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, Scotland Yard."

"Bethany," she replies, taking his hand before Lestrade turns back to us.

"Look, I'm not your handler ..." he pauses for a moment as he turns away to pick his pint up from the bar, "... and I don't just do what your brother tells me."

"Actually, you could be just the man we want," John says.

"Why?" dad asks.

"Well, I've not been idle, Sherlock," John replies, rummaging through his trouser pocket."I think I might have found something." He pulls out a crumpled sales invoice for an 'Undershaw Meat Supplies'. "Here. Didn't know if it was relevant; starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant."

"Excellent," dad praises and John turns to Lestrade.

"Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy." Dad and Lestrade exchange a look and John slaps his hand down on the bell on top of the bar. "Shop!"


	8. Chapter Seven

A little while later, the owners Gary and Billy bring us a stack of previous invoices from Undershaw and Lestrade flicks through them. Gary and Billy sit opposite us, looking rightfully anxious while dad pours up three cups of coffee and brings one of them over to me, one to Beth and one to John.

"What's this?" John asks, suspiciously.

"Coffee," dad says. "I made coffee."

"Younevermake coffee."

"I just did," he says defensively. "Don't you want it?"

"You don't have to keep apologising." Dad looks away, hurt but John relents and takes the cup and saucer. "Thanks."

I can tell by the look on Beth's face that, like me, she doesn't like coffee either but sips it politely. I follow suite but we grimace in unison.

"Mm. I don't take sugar ..." I say and dad looks hurt again so we feel compelled to keep drinking. He knows I don't take sugar so why has he given it to me?

"These records go back nearly two months," Lestrade says at last and John puts the cup back in the saucer, stifles a grimace and looks at dad.

"That's nice," he says. "That's good." I consider tipping mine in a plantpot but I continue to drink, if only for the caffeine.

"Is that when you had the idea," Lestrade continues, "after the TV show went out?"

"It's me," Billy says immediately, "It was me." He turns to his partner."I'm sorry, Gary – I couldn't help it. I had a bacon sandwich at Cal's wedding and one thing just led to another ..." I snort disbelievingly.

"Nice try," Lestrade says.

"Look, we were just trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know?" Gary explains. "A great big dog run wild up on the moor – it was heaven-sent. It was like us having our own Loch Ness Monster."

"Where do you keep it?" Lestrade asks.

"There's an old mineshaft. It's not too far. It was all right there."

"'Was'?" Dad repeats.

"We couldn't control the bloody thing," Gary sighs. "It was vicious." He sighs again."And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and, er ... you know."

"It's dead?" John asks.

"Put down," Gary confirms.

"Yeah," Billy agrees. "No choice. So it's over."

"It was just a joke, you know?"

"Yeah, hilarious!" Lestrade replies sarcastically and stands up, looking down at them angrily. "You've nearly driven a man out of his mind." He walks out the room and John, Beth and I follow him out of the pub while dad trails behind.

"You know he's actually pleased you're here?" I say and Lestrade throws me a disbelieving look. "Secretlypleased."

"Is he? That's nice!" Lestrade says sarcastically. "I suppose he likes having all the same faces back together. Appeals to his ... his ..." He stops and searches for the right word.

" ... Asperger's?" I finish, grinning slightly just as dad comes out the pub. He glowers at me but Lestrade changes the subject.

"So, you believe him about having the dog destroyed?"

"No reason not to," dad replies.

"Well, hopefully there's no harm done. Not quite sure what I'd charge him with anyway. I'll have a word with the local Force." He nods to us. "Right, that's that, then. Catch you later," he continues, smiling."I'm enjoying this! It's nice to get London out of your lungs!" We watch him walk away then John turns to dad.

"So that was their dog that people saw out on the moor?"

"Looks like it."

"But that wasn't whatyousaw," John presses. "That wasn't just an ordinary dog."

"No," dad agrees, his gaze becomming distant."It was immense, had burning red eyes and it was glowing, John. Its whole body was glowing." He shudders as he shakes off the memory then turns and walks towards the car. I frown at his description though - that isn't what I saw. The Hound I saw wasn't glowing and it certainly didn't have red eyes. "I've got a theory but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it."

"How?" I ask. "Can't pull off the ID trick again."

"Might not have to," he says, taking out his phone and keying in a number before holding it to his ear. "Hello, brother dear," he says insincerely. "Howareyou?"


	9. Chapter Eight

"Afternoon, sir," the armed security guard says to dad as we roll toa stop in front of the gates of Baskerville."If you could turn the engine off." Dad hands over his I.D. pass and switches the car off. "Thank you." As he goes over to the gate room to swipe the car, other soldiers and a dog handler with an Alsatian steps forward to check the car over from the outside.

"I need to see Major Barrymore as soon as we get inside," dad says quietly to John.

"Right."

"Which means you'll have to start the search for the hound," he continues.

"Okay."

"In the labs; Stapleton's first." The guard brings back the I.D. card and hands it over. "Could be dangerous," he finishes and I smile slightly, thinking back to our first case with John where those same three words motivated him to travel halfway across London to let dad use his phone. The gate slides open and dad starts the car again and drives into the base.

A shortwhile later, John splits away from us and heads in the direction of the labs while Dad, Beth and I walk towards Major Barrymore's office. It doesn't take us long to find it and dad knocks on the door before opening it slowly.

"You don't need to explain," Barrymore says, almost immediately. "I've heard."

"So you'll let us have access to the base?" Dad confirms.

"Oh, you know I'd love to," Barrymore replies snarkily, turning away from his computer. "I'dloveto give you unlimited access to this place. Why not?!"

"It's a simple enough request, Major," I reply.

"Giving two teenage girls complete and unlimited access to a hightly secure military base? I've never heard of anything so bizarre."

"You're to giveus twenty-four hours. It's what I've ..." he pauses momentarily as he thinks back to his argument with Mycroft earlier, "... negotiated."

"Not a second more," theMajor says sternly."I may have to comply with this order but I don't have to like it." He swings back around to his computer and we start to file out the office. "Idon't know what you expect to find here anyway."

"Perhaps the truth," dad says and Barrymore looks back around.

"About what? Oh, I see. The big coat should have told me." I frown andthe Major elaborates. "You're one of the conspiracy lot, aren't you?" He grins and I roll my eyes. "Well, then, go ahead, seek them out: the monsters, the death rays, the aliens."

"Have you got any of those?" I ask nonchalantly and it's Barrymore's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, just wondering."

"A couple," he says, leaning forward secretively. "Crash landed here in the sixties." His tone changes to sarcasim. "We call them Abbott and Costello, but wait - you're too young to understand that reference." I make a mental note to look them up later as Barrymore straightens up and turns back to his computer. "Good luck, Mr Holmes."

I follow dad out of the office and we stop in the corridor outside. The colonel who showed dad and John around the day before approaches us, a look of uncertainty on his face.

"The Major shouldn't know I'm doing this," he says. "But your brother said you may be able to help, Mr Holmes."

"Bit busy right now. Whatever it is can wait, especially if it was referred by my brother."

"Wait," I say and dad looks around. "I can do it. Beth and I can do this one together." He looks to Beth who shrugs, slightly nervous at the prospect of doing her own case.

"Okay," dad says at last. "Don't be too long. I'll be in the control room when you're done." I nod and turn to the colonel.

"Lead the way, colonel." He nods sharply and spins around on his heel, leading us towards the lift at the end of the corridor as dad watches us go. "So what's the issue?"

"After you left yesterday we found a few more people downstairs," he explains as we step into the lift. "The problem is, the room we found them was locked from the outside. They were on the inside."

"Did theybreak in?" Beth asks, frowning and I smile at her initiative. The doors open and he leads us back out and down another set of passageways.

"There was no sign of a break in," the Colonel shakes his head, "but they didn't come through the front door either." He stops in front of a door. "They just appeared." He opens up the viewing hatch for us to look through. Stood justthe othersideofthe door is a youngish man with what would seem to be his wife watching from behind, her arms crossed as she narrows her eyes at us. In the corner of the room, the eyes of another man rise slightly to meet mine.

"Hello Doctor," I say with a facade of confidence. This isn't the Doctor I remember, but from what I remember from John he has the capability to change his face. Although this man looks young, his eyes have seen much more than it would first appear.

"Hello Sophie!" the Doctor responds, jumping forward and standing in front of the hatch. "Knew you'd come along."

"No you didn't," I scoff. "You had no idea we would be here." Beth, who had been listening from behind steps forward to my side.

"Did you say Doctor?" she asks, frowning and I grin. She looks through the hatch and sees the Doctor for herself.

"Let me guess, you're afan," I say. Becoming aware that the Colonel is still stood right beside me, I change direction. "Beth I would like to formally introduce Doctor John Smith of the Institute for Genetics. He's been helping us with thiscase." I look hard at the Doctor who smiles and joins in.

"When I heard about this placeI couldn't resist a look," he says. I nod and turn back to the Colonel.

"There's obviously been another mistake, Colonel. The Doctor is prone to getting into trouble. He must have thought this was a lab and the door locked behind him. There's no other explanation for it."

"So you know him?" the Colonel confirms hesitantly.

"Absolutely. Now if you could release them, it would be much appreciated." Noticing Beth still has her mouth agape, I nudge her slightly and it shuts quickly. The Colonel nods and keys a code into the key pad beside the door and we watch it open. "Thank you. Now I believe we can show ourselves out. I have somewhere I need to be."

"Of course, Ma'am," he replies and gives us some breathing space as we make our way towards the lift.

"So is there a reason why you managed to get locked inside a high-security military base in Dartmoor?" I ask but the Doctor is interrupted before he can answer.

"I'm sorry, am I missing something?" The woman asks, striding up beside us. Her accent is Scottish, but her mannerisms suggest she was raised away from her home. "Who the hell are you."

"Amy, Rory," the Doctor says, spinning around and grinning, "This is Sophia Holmes, daughter of Sherlock Holmes."

"Okay," the male, Rory, replies to Amy. "Did he just say 'Sherlock Holmes'? Did I hear that?"

"Yeah," Amy responds slowing down. "I think he did. How?"

"Parallel universe," I explains. "Sherlock and I exist but the books that feature our exploits do not." I exchange a look with the Doctor before continuing. "Or as the Doctor would call it, 'spacey-wacey'. Much easier for you to understand, I expect." Amy and Rory exchange looks and Beth nudges me.

"Rude," she whispers and I roll my eyes.

"Now if you're quite finished, I need to get back to the case,"I finish. The Doctor drops behind.

"If you want to avoid being called stupid, don't say anything," I hear him say to his companions. "Especially you, Rory."

"Now back to my original question," I say as the lift doors open. We step outside and stand to the side. "Why are you here?"

"You said Dartmoor, yes?" The Doctor asks and I nod. "So Hounds of Baskerville?"

"So we've done this in the books as well?" I ask.

"You and Sherlock didn't go though, John was sent down on his own."

"That nearly happened," I admit. "So you're here because of the Hound?"

"Don't know," the Doctor replies. "Kinda slipped through the worlds again. Cracks in space and time are opening up everywhere and parts of worlds are seeping through. Have you seen any?"

"Can't say I have," I respond and Beth shakes her head.

"Where are we up to in the TV show?" The Doctor asks Beth, who looks stunned at finally being addressed.

"Past where you are now, I would guess," Beth says slowly. "Cracks in time and space kinda runs all the way through but I'm further along than that. I don't want to give anything away."

"Course not," The Doctor grins. "Spoilers." I shake my head.

"We need to get back to Sherlock," I say and the Doctor nods in understanding. "So I suppose this is bye for now." He smiles.

"I don't believe in goodbyes," he replies and I return the smile. I turn to walk away but remember something.

"Doctor." He turns back around and I feel the eyes of him and his companions on me. "That Christmas present - one of the book titles was the Final Problem. What does that mean?"

"Have you read it?" The Doctor asks, narrowing his eyes in concern but I shake my head and he looks relieved. "It's as you would have probably guessed - it's the last book that I could find about Sherlock. I believe it's happening quite soon." I breathe out a shaky breath but nod. "I'll be there, if I can. It's a fixed point and I won't be able to do anything, but I'll be there for you when it happens."

"Thanks," I reply, nodding. "See you then, I guess." His eyes long solemn as he returns the nod and I turn away before the tears start to sting my eyes.


	10. Chapter Nine

A text from dad sends us back downstairs to the labs. It would appear John has passed the experiment as dad was expecting so I meet him and John outside Stapleton's lab. He gives me a look which asks for an explanation but I shake my head.

"I'll explain later," I say and his nod suggests he'll postpone his enquiries for now. "We ready?" Dad nods again, then opens the door to the lab a nd we follow him through. Stapleton looks up from the rabbit she is examining on the metal table in the middle of the room.

"Oh. Back again?" she says. "What's on your mind this time?"

"Murder, Doctor Stapleton," dad replies. "Refined, cold-blooded murder." He reaches back and turns off the light switch by the door. The limited lighting from the other end of the lab is enough to see that the rabbit is glowing green before he turns the lights back on. "Willyoutell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell or shall I?" dad asks, smiling unpleasantly at her.

"Okay," she sighs. "What do you want?"

"Can I borrow your microscope?"

We move to a larger lab and we take off our coats. John sits on a stool near the door looking blankly into space but I've set Beth some simple tests to do while I do some others beside dad who is looking at the molecular structure of the sugar.

"Are yousureyou're okay?" Stapleton asks John, staring at him in concern as she breaks the silence. He looks up, blinking, but doesn't reply. I think we broke him. "You look very peaky."

"No, I'm all right."

"It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case you're interested," she continues.

"What?" John asks as I get the results from my tests.

"In the rabbits."

"Mmm, right, yes."

"Aequoria Victoria, if you really want to know," she says proudly and John looks up at her.

"Why?"

"Why not?" she challenges. "We don't ask questions like that here. It isn't done."

At just a glance at the results I can tell it's just ordinary sugar. There's literally nothing I can find to fault it. Dad seems to be having the same problem as he picks up another slide and puts it under the microscope.

"There was a mix-up, anyway," Stapleton continues and I half listen as I check over Beth's results. "My daughter ended up with one of the lab specimens, so poor Bluebell had to go."

"Your compassion's overwhelming," John says cynically.

"I know," she replies, mockingly. "I hate myself sometimes."

"So, come on then," John pushes. "You can trust me – I'm a doctor. What else have you got hidden away up here?" Dad huffs beside me and takes the slide back out.

"Listen," Stapleton sighs, "if you can imagine it, someone is probably doing it somewhere. Ofcoursethey are."

"And cloning?" I ask, looking up. Beth shivers beside me.

"Yes, of course," Stapleton replies. "Dolly the Sheep, remember?"

"Human cloning?"

"Why not?"

"What about animals?" John asks. "Not sheep ... big animals."

"Size isn't a problem, not at all," Stapleton tells us. "The only limits are ethics and the law, and both those things can be ... very flexible. But not here – not at Baskerville."

Furious, dad stands up and snatches the latest slide out from under the microscope and hurls it against wall.

"It's not there!" dad says, livid.

"Jesus!" John says, jumping.

"Nothing there!" dad exclaims. "Doesn't make any sense."

"What were you expecting to find?" Stapleton asks.

"A drug, of course," dad says, pacing. "There has to be a drug – a hallucinogenic or a deliriant of some kind. There's no trace of anything in the sugar."

"Sugar?" John asks.

"The sugar, yes," dad repeats. "It's a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound – saw it as my imagination expected me to see it: a genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn't believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics. Henry Knight – he saw it too and so did Sophie but you didn't, John. You didn't see it. Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one thing: you don't take sugar in your coffee."

"I see. So ..."

"I took it from Henry's kitchen – his sugar," dad explains, glaring down at the microscope."It's perfectly all right."

"But maybe it's not a drug," John suggests and I roll my eyes. That's what I said earlier, but try explaining that to him.

"No, ithasto be a drug," dad says, sitting on a stool, his head buried in his hands. He lowers his hands a little but keeps his head bowed and eyes closed. "But how did it get into our systems.How?" He raises his head but keeps his eyes closed. He's getting near to needing his Mind Palace so I start packing up. "There has to be something ..." He pauses for a moment before turning his head, as if watching a fly buzz around in front of him. "... something ... ah, something ..." he continues before opening his eyes. " ... something buried deep." He takes in a sharp breath and points imperiously to Stapleton. "Get out."

"What?" Stapleton frowns.

"Get out," dad repeats."I need to go to my mind palace." John sags in his seat in indignation, but Stapleton still looks confused.

"Your what?" Dad has already turned his head away and is staring ahead. Deciding that he probably has more context on this than me, I decide to retreat with John and gather my things.

"He's not gonna be doing much talking for a while," Itell her."We may as well go."

Dad breathes deeply as he focuses his thoughts and I follow John towards the door, Beth behind me looking back at dad.

"His what?" Stapleton repeats, nearly at the door.

"His mind palace,"Isay, toa blank stare before explaining."It's a memory technique – a sort of mental map. You plot a map with a location – it doesn't have to be a real place – and then you deposit memories there that ..." I fade off as I look back at him. "Theoretically, you can never forget anything; all you have to do is find your way back to it."

"So this imaginary location can be anything – a house or a street."

"Yeah."

"But he said 'palace'," she says slowly."He said it was apalace."

John chuckles and looks towards dad for a moment. "Yeah, well, he would, wouldn't he?"

"What's that supposed to mean?!" I ask in indignation as John leads us out of the lab.

"Nothing, Sophie," he replies, grinning. I shake my head and exchange a look with Beth who smirks.


	11. Chapter Ten

We're outside for no more than five minutes before dad comes back out, looking as though he might have solved it.

"I need a computer with as much access to the records as possible," dad says and Stapleton nods.

"That'll be the Major's," she says. "His computer's on a closed network - I reckon he should have every detail about Baskerville there is on there." Dad nods and gestures for Stapleton to lead on so we follow her upstairs, back to the corridor that we started in this afternoon. She uses her card to swipe us into his office and we follow her in.

"John," dad says, pointing for him to stand by the door to serve as a look-out.

"Yeah, I'm on it," John replies, turning back to stand by the door while Stapleton sits down at Barrymore's computer.

"Project HOUND," dad explains to the unspoken question. "Must have read about it and stored it away. An experiment in a CIA facility in Liberty, Indiana." I nod slowly. I think I may have heard something about that. Never would have arrived at that so soon though. He stands behind Stapleton as she types her User ID onto the computer then adds her password. A request to 'Enter Search String' comes up on the screen and she looks back to dad.

"H, O, U, N, D," he dictates and she types in the letters and presses the return key. A message of no access comes up, a box for an authorisation code beneath.

"That's as far as my access goes, I'm afraid."

"Well, there must be an override and password," John suggests.

"I imagine so," Stapleton replies, "but that'd be Major Barrymore's." I narrow my eyes and spin around, walkign towards the main area of Barrymore's office.

"Password, password, password," I mutter to myself as I switch on the lights in the room and sit down at the desk. "He sat here when he thought it up," I think aloud before folding my hands in front of my mouth and spinning in the chair, looking around the office. "Describe him to me," I say as Stapleton comes over.

"You've seen him," she argues and I sigh.

"But describe him."

"Er, he's a bloody martinet," she tries, "a throw-back, the sort of man they'd have sent into Suez."

"Good, excellent," I say, narrowing down the usual go-to passwords. "Old-fashioned, traditionalist; not the sort that would use his children's names as a password." I gesture to the children's drawings pinned on the board above the desk. "He loves his job; proud of it and this is work-related, so what's at eye level?" I sit up a little straighter so I would match his hight and do another circle of the room on the chair, this time without altering the angle of my eyes. "Books," I say, gesturing to the shelves. "Jane's Defence Weekly – bound copies. Hannibal; Wellington; Rommel; Churchill's 'History of the English-Speaking Peoples' – all four volumes." Churchill seems like a good guess as I stand up and examine a broze bust of Churchill on the shelf. "Churchill," I continue, still thinking aloud, "well, he's fond of Churchill." I look back at the bookshelves and scan along the row. "Copy of 'The Downing Street Years'; one, two, three, four, five separate biographies of Thatcher." I look down at a framed photograph on the desk of a man in uniform with his teenage son. "Mid 1980s at a guess," I say, pointing. "Father and son: Barrymore senior. Medals: Distinguished Service Order." I look round at John. "What was happening around then, John?" He looks around and walks over to look at the photo.

"That date? I'd say Falklands veteran."

"Right," I nod. "So Thatcher's looking a more likely bet than Churchill." I walk back towards the computer and Stapleton follows me over.

"So that's the password?" she asks.

"No," I say, shaking my head. "With a man like Major Barrymore, only first name terms would do." I slide the chair out and sit down. I begin typing 'Margaret' into the box, but it'll only let me type up to the 'e' so I rethink and backspace. I look at it for a moment before narrowing my eyes and typing in 'Maggie' instead. Gritting my teeth in hope as I reach towards the return key, I hit enter. The computer beeps and lets us in.

They gather behind me as information results begin to come up about Project H.O.U.N.D. and click the first link. It would appear they were working on creating fear and stimulus to create conditioned terror, all of which is condensed and expelled through aerosol. I zoom in on a photo of the project team with the names tagged and re-arrange them mentally.

"Hansen, O'Mara, Uslowski, Nader and Dyson," I read out and I hear Stapleton breathe in in realisation.

"HOUND." I nod and begin scrolling down. Phrases such as 'severe frontal lobe damage', 'gross cranial trauma' and 'multiple homicide' jump out at me and I hear Beth walk a little distance away as I reach an image of one of the subjects screaming in insanity.

"Jesus," John says softly from behind. I click out of the page and find another one which gives a summary of their project.

"Project HOUND," I read aloud, "a new deliriant drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible. They wanted to use it as an anti-personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus; but they shut it down and hid it away in 1986."

"Because of what it did to the subjects they tested it on," Stapleton says.

"And what they did to others," dad finishes. "Prolonged exposure drove them insane – made them almost uncontrollably aggressive."

"So someone's been doing it again – carrying on the experiments?" Beth asks.

"Attempting to refine it, perhaps," dad suggests, "for the last twenty years."

"Who?" Stapleton asks. I click back to the picture of the project leaders.

"Those names mean anything to you?" I ask, but she shakes her head.

"No, not a thing."

"Five principal scientists," dad sighs, "twenty years ago." He takes hold of the mouse and begins zooming in on individuals within the photo. The closer picture reveals they are all wearing idential t-shirts: an image of a snarling wolf's head and the initials H.O.U.N.D printed beneath. "Maybe our friend's somewhere in the back of the picture – someone who was old enough to be there at the time of the experiments in 1986 ..." He stops and I frown, then I roll my eyes as I realise.

"Maybe somebody who says 'cell phone' because of time spent in America," I say, remembering picking up on that yesterday when he handed over his card.

"He gave us his number in case we needed him," dad voices.

"Oh my God," Stapleton says as she realises who it is. "Bob Frankland. But Bob doesn't even work on ... I mean, he's a virologist. This was chemical warfare."

"It's where he started, though," dad explains. "And he's never lost the certainty, the obsession that that drug really could work. Nice of him to give us his number." He reaches into his pocket and takes out Frankland's card. "Let's arrange a little meeting." Dad walks away, phone in hand, but before he reaches the door John's phone begins to ring. He frowns at the number on the screen, apparently not recognising it, and I watch as he answers.

"Hello?" I can hear the sound of a crying woman, but nothing else. "Who's this?"

"You've got to find Henry," I hear the voice say and John looks round to dad.

"It's Louise Mortimer," he says before speaking into the phone. "Louise, what's wrong?"

"Henry was ..." she sobs before continuing, "was remembering; then ... he tried ..." I hear her gasp as she tries to calm herself. "He's got a gun. He went for the gun and tried to ... "

"What?" John asks as she breaks down in tears again.

"He's gone," she says. "You've got to stop him. I don't know what he might do."

"Where-where are you?"

"His house," Mortimer says. "I'm okay, I'm okay."

"Right: stay there," John instructs. "We'll get someone to you, okay?" He lowers his phone and I assume he's starting to text Lestrade.

"Henry?" dad asks from the door and John nods.

"He's attacked her."

"Gone?"

"Mmm."

"There's only one place he'll go to," dad says, hitting a number from his phone and putting it to his ear. "Lestrade," dad says into it. "Get to the Hollow." He pauses as Lestrade responds, obviously clueless. "... Dewer's Hollow, now. And bring a gun."


	12. Chapter Eleven

The moment we are past the boundary gates, dad puts his foot down and we speed along the roads until we get near the Hollow and then we mount the grass and continue onwards. When we get to the entry to the woods, dad pulls up and we hop out and race towards the Hollow on foot.

As we reach the lip of the Hollow, I see Henry squat down and put a pistol to his open mouth.

"No, Henry, no!" Dad cries. "No!" We scramble down the slope and shine our torches towards him. He gets up and staggers backwards, waving the pistol in our general direction.

"Get back," he warns. His voice is high-pitched and hysterical. "Get – get away from me!"

"Easy, Henry," John soothes. "Easy. Just relax."

"I know what I am," he cries. "I know what I tried to do!"

"Just put the gun down," John says. "It's okay."

"No, no," Henry replies, his voice hoarse in anguish. "I know what I am!"

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Henry," I say in a voice as close to reassuring as I can manage. "It's all been explained to you, hasn't it – explained very carefully."

"What?"

"Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you'd both clung on to, because you had started to remember." Dad takes over, slightly aware that I would be Henry's first target if he decides to shoot. I don't really fancy being shot again, to be honest.

"Remember now, Henry," he says, stepping towards Henry. "You've got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy."

The hand with his gun lowers momentarily but he raises it again as he struggles to understand.

"I thought it had got my dad – the hound. I thought ..." He loses control and begins to scream in anguish. "Oh Je... oh Jesus, I don't – I don't know any more!" Sobbing, he bends forward and aims the muzzle into his mouth again.

"No, Henry!" John cries, lurching forward. "Henry, for God's sake!" I become aware that this is probably not a great sight for Beth to be seeing right now. I turn around to check she's okay and she nods back, slightly shaking.

"Henry, remember," dad says urgently. "'Liberty In.'. Two words; two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago." Henry's breath begins to even but he still remains hunched over with the gun against his mouth. "You'd started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn't an animal, was it, Henry?" He starts to straighten up, blinking. "Not a monster." Henry turns to look at dad as he finishes. "A man."

Henry's eyes widen as the words spark distant, covered-up memories and he looks horrified.

"You couldn't cope," I say and dad, satisfied Henry is no longer dangerous, lets me continue. "You were just a child, so you rationalised it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no-one would believe a word that you said."

John steps forward quietly, holding his hand out encouragingly.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade shouts as he trots down the side of the Hollow. Late as always. Henry would have been dead if it was left to him.

"Okay, it's okay, mate," John says softly to Henry as he eases the pistol from Henry's fingers.

"But we saw it," Henry says tearfully to dad and I, "the hound, last night. We s... we, we, we did, we saw ..."

"Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry," I explain calmly, "leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that's how it works." Henry stares at me in confusion and I return a sympathetic look as I continue. "But there never was any monster."

The moment I say it, an anguished howl rings out in the woods above us. Beth gives a small cry as we look up and shine our torches around. I see it again now as it was last night: crouching low as it stalks the rim of the Hollow, snarling.

"Sherlock ..." John says slowly. Beth starts to freak. I walk slowly over to her and grab her hand comfortingly as Henry begins to wail in panic.

"No. No, no, no, no!" He backs up as dad tries to simultaneously hold out a calming hand towards him while keeping his own torch shining up.

"Henry, Henry ..." Dad says.

"Sherlock ..." John says.

The monster continues to slink along the rim of the Hollow as Henry begins to scream in abject terror. He crumples to his knees screaming.

"Henry!" John tries in an attempt to get him to shut up. It's possible the Hound is blinded by the mist so if we all shut up right now it might go. But his continuous wails attracts the attention of the creature and it turns towards the Hollow and looks down at us, snarling viciously.

"Shit!" Lestrade yells as he looks up at the rim.

"Greg, are you seeing this?" John checks and Lestrade's expression says it all. Instead of panicking, however, I start to think. Lestrade hasn't been anywhere with us this entire time so how is he taking it in? John seems to be thinking the same thing.

"Right: he is not drugged, Sherlock, so what's that? What is it?!" I close my eyes, trying to block Henry's wailing, the panic and the pressure to work this out.

"All right!" dad cries. "It's still here ..." he pants heavily for a moment before pulling himself together, "... but it's just a dog. Henry! It's nothing more than an ordinary dog!"

The hound seems to disagree. It raises its head and lets out another, long howl.

"Oh my God," Lestrade mutters, stumbling backwards. The hound turns and begins bounding down the slope, its eyes red in the torchlight. "Oh, Christ!" It doesn't attack though. It stops again and opens its mouth, revealing a mouthful of long pointed teeth, far bigger than you'd ever see.

"It's not real," I mutter both to myself and to Beth who is shaking in terror beside me. "It's not real, it's not real." I narrow my eyes as I see a figure approaching us from the fog. I point at the figure as he reveals himself and dad spins around. He's wearing a breathing mask with some kind of mask over his face. Dad rishes towards him and pulls the mask upwards to reveal his face. I don't believe it.

Behind the mask is Moriarty, grinning manically. Except it can't be. It must be ths drug again, making us see what we fear the most. I wonder what dad sees because his face contorts in appalled horror.

"No!" dad exclaims. Behind us, the hound growls ominously again and the vision of Moriarty flickers a little, appearing to morphing between his face and someone elses. "It's not you!" he says frantically. "You're not here!" He grabs the figure and spins him around before headbutting him in the face in an attempt to shake the illusion. Moriarty crumples slightly and rises again, hand to his face, as Doctor Frankland. Dad clings onto his jacket, his breathing panicked and frantic. I look around at the mist and see Frankland still his his hand clamped over his mouth and nose and the dots connect.

"The fog," I say quietly in realisation.

"What?" John asks, not breaking eye contact with the hound.

"It's the fog!" I say louder. "The drug: it's in the fog! Aerosol dispersal – that's what it said in those records. Project HOUND – it's the fog! A chemical minefield!" As I finish, I pull my scarf over my mouth to prevent breathing in any more and Lestrade does the same.

"For God's sake," Frankland says, "kill it! Kill it!" Like Moriarty had, the hound becomes distorted as it prepares itself to attack. Lestrade lifts his pistol and shoots three times but his bullets fly past. Regretting leaving my pistol behind at the inn, I step aside as the hound begins leaping towards us again and John raises his own gun up and starts to shoot. His aim is more steady and his bullets throw the hound backwards. It squeals in pain and then falls to the ground, unmoving. We watch it anxiously for any signs of movement but dad runs over to Henry and pulls him towards the hound.

"Look at it, Henry," dad says

"No, no, no!" he protests, digging his heels in.

"Come on, look at it!" dad says determinedly. It's the best way for him to recover - finding out that in the torchlight it was just a big dog after all. Henry stares at it for a moment as he tries to process it, then turns to Frankland.

"It's just ..." he says. "You bastard." Enraged, he hurls himself at Frankland. "You bastard!" Tackling him to the ground, Henry screams in his face while John and Lestrade run over to pull him off. "Twenty years!" he cries. "Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn't you just kill me?!"

"Because dead men get listened to," dad says as they pull him up. "He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet – a chemical minefield; pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here."

"Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once," I say in awe, looking around and dad laughs in delight.

"Oh, this case, Henry!" he says. "Thank you. It's been brilliant."

"Sherlock ..." John says, warningly.

"What?" dad asks, turning to him. John glares at him pointedly.

"Timing."

"Not good?" dad asks in realisation.

"No, no, it's – it's okay," Henry says. "It's fine, because this means ..." he steps towards Frankland and John moves with him, ready to pull him off if he tries to attack again, "... this means that my dad was right." Frankland gets up onto his knees as Henry tries to move forwards but John and Lestrade both put a gentle hand on his shoulders to keep him back. "He found something out, didn't he," he continues, tearfully, "and that's why you'd killed him – because he was right, and he'd found you right in the middle of an experiment."

Frankland gets to his feet, but before he can say anything there's a savage snarl from behind us. My eyes widen and I spin back around to see the dog get up off the ground, whining in pain. Frankland takes this as an opportunity to escape as John fires two bullets at the dog to put it out of it's misery, but is stopped from doing a third when dad runs across his line of fire to chase after the scientist.

"Frankland!" dad yells and I let go of Beth's hand as I follow him up over the bank and through the woods. "Frankland! It's no use, Frankland!" We stop suddenly as we reach the barbed wire fence surrounding the minefield. Not hesitating, Frankland jumps over it and as his feet get tangled he falls to tbe ground. He jumps up and runs on a few metres before stopping abruptly. The mine beneath his foot clicks and Frankland looks down as he realises his mistake. Beth catches up in time to see Frankland look up in resignation before moving his foot off.

We duck down as a massive explosion rips into the air. The heat from the fire radiates towards us and the stench of burned flesh fills the air. I look back at Beth who looks shocked but alright. No doubt this will all catch up on her when she gets back. As the blast dies down, Henry sinks back against a nearby tree and dad gazes reflectively across the minefield.


	13. Chapter Twelve

The next morning, Beth meets us outside the Cross Keys for breakfast.

"You okay?" I ask her as she sits opposite me, waiting for our meals to come.

"I think so," she sighs. "I've seen a lot this week - some of which I wish I hadn't. But I've had the best time of my life, honestly."

"Put you off for life?" I grin and she laughs.

"Not quite!"

Billy brings out a plate of vegetarian breakfast and puts it in front of John.

"Mmm," John says, looking down at the plate. "Thanks, Billy."

As Billy walks away, dad brings over our drinks and sets them down in front of us.

"Ta," I say, bringing mine closer to me. "No suspected narcotics in this one then?"

"No," dad shakes his head. "You're safe." I grin and blow gently on the surface so it can cool down quicker.

"So they didn't have it put down, then – the dog." I say as John starts tucking into his breakfast.

"Obviously," he answers. "Suppose they just couldn't bring themselves to do it."

"I see."

"No you don't," John smiles.

"No, I don't," I admit. "Sentiment?"

"Sentiment!" John confirms and I roll my eyes.

"Oh."

"Listen," John says as dad sits down beside him. "What happened to me in the lab?" Dad looks uncomfortable before reaching to the condiments caddy in the centre of the table as he tries to work out how to explain himself.

"D'you want some sauce with that?"

"I mean," John continues, ignoring him, "I hadn't been to the Hollow, so how come I heard those things in there? Fear and stimulus, you said."

"You must have been dosed with it elsewhere, when you went to the lab, maybe," dad suggests, not making eye contact. I exchange a knowing look with Beth who smirks. "You saw those pipes – pretty ancient, leaky as a sieve; and they were carrying the gas, so ... Um, ketchup, was it, or brown ...?"

"Hang on," John says in realisation, "you thought it was in the sugar." Dad raises his eyes and stares at him while trying to maintain a neutral expression. "You were convinced it was in the sugar." Dad looks away again.

"Better get going, actually," he says, looking at his watch. "There's a train that leaves in half an hour, so if you want ..."

"You're joking right?" Beth laughs. "You'd never get up to Exeter in half an hour!" I laugh with her as John turns his head away in realisation.

"Oh God," he says. "It was you. You locked me in that bloody lab."

"I had to," dad replies defensively. "It was an experiment."

"An experiment?!" John repeats furiously. Dad looks around at the people sitting nearby and shushes him. "I was terrified, Sherlock," John continues, quieter but still furious. "I was scared to death."

"I thought that the drug was in the sugar, so I put the sugar in your coffee, then I arranged everything with Major Barrymore." John sighs in exasperation. "It was all totally scientific, laboratory conditions – well, literally. Well, I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on an average one." John looks up from his plate and dad rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"But it wasn't in the sugar," John establishes as he returns to his breakfast.

"No," dad says, then quickly tries to defend himself, "well, I wasn't to know you'd already been exposed to the gas."

"So you got it wrong," John pushes and I grin.

"No.

"Mmm," I join in. "You were wrong. It wasn't in the sugar. You got it wrong."

"A bit," he admits finally. "It won't happen again."

"Any long-term effects?" John sighs.

"None at all," dad says. "You'll be fine once you've excreted it. We all will."

"Think I might have taken care of that already," John says and I snort with laughter. Dad looks over to where Gary is pouring coffee for two other customers. He looks up and smiles apologetically across. Dad stands up and puts his mug on the table.

"Where're you going?" John asks.

"Won't be a minute," dad replies. "Gotta see a man about a dog."


	14. Epilogue

After saying goodbye to Beth and her dad at the train station in Exeter, we load our cases on and find our seats.

"Right," John says, pulling out his laptop as we sit down. "Best write this case up then."

"What's it going to be this time?" I smirk. "'The Hounds of Baskerville'?" John's eyes widen and I roll my own. "I wasn't being serious."

"No it's - it's the blog," he says, spinning the laptop around so we can see the screen. The entry at the top, the most recent one, is titled 'Hello Boys!' I click into it and read the short message.

"He's back."


End file.
